I travelled till sunset, examining every ridge in the prairie; every bend in the thicket; but there was no human being to be seen, nor a trail, or foot print, on the burnt sod, except the hoof marks, where the herd of elk had passed. I then clambered to the top of a high-peaked hill, which overlooked the prairie for miles; but all was deserted. I determined, then to encamp for the night, in the neighbouring piece of wood, and in the morning to renew my search. At the same time, resolving like most persons who are in trouble, that if I got safely out of this scrape, I would take better care when next I hunted alone. I went down into the woods and built a fire. The night was cold, and bleak. There was no grass to make a bed; the wolves howled incessantly; and to judge from their snarling, and yelping at the foot of a tree, a little distance off, I imagined, that they had pursued some animal, which had taken refuge in its branches. The night passed away drearily, and with a joyous feeling, I once more saw the east streaked with the light of dawn. Before the day had fairly broken, I left the grove, and pursued my course to the westward, until I again came to a ridge in the prairie. This I ascended and looked in every direction; but could see nothing. I raised my voice and gave an Indian hunting whoop, which might have been heard for a mile. The woods echoed it; but there was no other answer. I wished to discharge my rifle, in hopes that it might reach the ears of the party; but I had only a single charge of powder, left in my horn; and if I should be obliged to journey to the settlements alone, I thought that this would be too precious to be wasted. So in silence, and with drooping spirits, I continued my journey along the line of timber. The sun rose, and gradually ascended in the heavens. A vague doubt began to steal across my mind; that I had, perhaps, crossed the trail, in the obscurity of the morning twilight; for I was now much farther to the west, than I thought it possible, the party could have gone. About a mile in front of me a long arm of timber jutted out into the prairie. I made for it, determining if I did not then come upon their trail, that I would retrace my steps and carefully examine that portion which I had crossed before daybreak. I reached the timber; but saw no track. I again whooped; but as before, the echoing forests alone answered me; and with a sensation of utter loneliness, I turned round and retraced my steps. It was near mid-day when I reached my last encamping place. I had carefully noted every mark upon the black sod; I saw my own foot-prints, where I had struck out into the prairie in the morning; but nothing else. I then kept on for an hour longer, but my mind was constantly vascillating—whether to follow my own foot-prints until they guided me to the camping ground where I had left the party on the day previous, or to keep on to the eastward until I should reach the Missouri; or once more