Under the big oaks, meanwhile, our camp fire burned brightly, and Shamus was developing the mysteries of his art. Roast turkey and broiled antelope tempt the pampered appetites of dyspeptic city men, but here in the wilderness, their fresh juices, hissing from beds of glowing coals, filled the air with a fragrance that to us was sweeter than roses. Tired enough, after an all day's ride, and hungry as bears from twelve hours fasting, we sucked in the odors of the cooking meat, as a sort of aërial soup, while the Dobeen stood an aproned king of grease and turkey, with basting spoon for scepter, and with it kept motioning back the hungry hordes that skirmished along his borders. Two mess chests had been placed a few feet apart, with the tail-boards of our wagons connecting them, and over this was spread a linen table cloth, white plates, clean napkins, and bright knives, with salt, pepper, and butter. All were in their accustomed places. This our first meal on the plains looked more like an aristocratic pic-nic than a supper in the territory of the buffaloes. But the picture was too bright to last, and ere many days neither napkins nor cloth could have been made available as flags of truce. It is one of those threadbare truisms, adorning all hunting stories of every age and clime, that hunger is the best seasoning. We had an excess of it on hand just then, and would willingly have shared it with the dyspeptic, baldheaded young men of Fifth Avenue. The turkey we found fat and very rich in flavor, and the antelope steaks more delicate than venison. Condensed milk supplied well the place of the usual lacteal, and was an improvement on the city article, inasmuch as we knew exactly what quantity and quality of water went into it. We were obliged to economize, however, respecting this part of our supplies. The following entry in our log-book, by Sachem, under date of the day preceding this, will explain the reason: "Two cans of milk stolen, probably by the Cheyennes. Consider the article more reliable for families than city stump-tail, requiring neither milking or feeding, and never kicking the bucket, or causing infants to do so. Had no idea that a taste of it would develop such a talent for hooking." CHAPTER XIV. A CAMP-FIRE SCENE--VAGABONDIZING--THE BLACK PACER OF THE PLAINS--SOME ADVICE FROM BUFFALO BILL ABOUT INDIAN FIGHTING--LO'S ABHORRENCE OF LONG RANGE--HIS DREAD OF CANNON--AN IRISH GOBLIN--SACHEM'S "SONG OF SHAMUS."