Antoine of Oregon: A Story of the Oregon TrailOtis, James
General
Antoine of Oregon: A Story of the Oregon Trail
Otis, James
Overland journeys to the Pacific; West (U.S.) -- Description and travel
To bring a buffalo down, one must shoot him in the lungs. To hit the
skull is much like sending a bullet against a rock, for it has no
other effect than to excite the animal, and oftentimes even then not
very much. Of course if a hunter can send a ball through the brute's
heart, that settles the matter, but it is a difficult shot.
I did my best to explain how they ought to shoot in order to kill, and
then, finding they were not inclined to heed my words, I proposed that
we set off, each going his own way and doing the work after his own
fashion.
It caused me to smile when I saw those men creeping up on some old
bull, whose flesh was so dry and tough that none save a starving man
would eat it; but they seemed to think it was size that counted.
Knowing that now was the time when I could again profit by my
experience as a hunter and trapper, I went off in chase of a couple of
young cows, and within thirty minutes had them stretched out on the
prairie. Meanwhile I believe that no less than a hundred shots had
been fired by the other members of the company; but I failed to see
that any of them had been successful.
[Illustration]
John Mitchell and one of the men who went out with him succeeded in
killing an old bull, and although during three hours of that forenoon
there were hundreds of buffaloes in sight, all our company took from
that vast herd were the two cows I had killed and the tough old fellow
that had fallen under John Mitchell's rifle.
Because Susan's father did not call upon me for advice as to how his
share of the game should be cut up ready for cooking, I held my peace,
but set about taking the flesh from each side of the spine, from the
shoulders to the rump, of the two animals I had killed. Afterward I
cut out the tongue and the hump ribs, while those two men were hacking
at their game, apparently believing his flesh should be treated after
the same manner as that of a stall-fed ox.
While I was making ready some of the hump ribs for roasting, my mother
came to my side, saying, as she pointed to our companions:--
MY MOTHER'S ADVICE
"It pains me to see these people heedless of that which they must meet
with before we can arrive at the Oregon country. They who complain
bitterly because the sun falls upon them too warmly, or that the ford
is very deep, hope to make their way to that far-off land with no more
labor and no more suffering than they have already experienced since
we left Independence."
[Illustration]
"They will soon learn, mother," I said laughingly, and yet in my heart
was sorrow for the people whom I had so lately come to know, because
of the lesson that was before them. "The one fear is that when we come
to the mountains, when we must fight with all our strength to gain a
half mile in this direction or a mile in that, camping without food
and without fuel, whether they will keep on or grow disheartened and
turn back."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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