Some Heroes of Travel: or, Chapters from the History of Geographical Discovery and EnterpriseAdams, W. H. Davenport (William Henry Davenport)
History
Some Heroes of Travel: or, Chapters from the History of Geographical Discovery and Enterprise
Adams, W. H. Davenport (William Henry Davenport)
Discoveries in geography; Explorers
While hunting in the Arkansas valley, Mr. Ruxton met with many exciting
experiences; the most serious being that of a night in the snow.
Suspecting that some Indians had carried off his mules, he seized his
rifle, and went in search of them, and coming upon what he supposed to be
their track, followed it up with heroic patience for ten miles. He then
discovered that he had made a mistake; retraced his steps to the camp,
and, with his friend, struck in another direction. This time he hit on
the right trail, and was well pleased to find that the animals were not
in Indian hands, as their ropes evidently still dragged along the ground.
Carrying a lariat and saddle-blanket, so as to ride back on the mules if
they were caught, away went the two dauntless hunters, nor did they stop
to rest until midnight. Then, in the shelter of a thicket and on the
bank of a stream, they kindled a fire, and thankfully lay down within
reach of its genial influence. Alas! a gale of wind at that moment
arose, and scattering the blazing brands to right and left, soon ignited
the dry grass and bushes; so that, to prevent a general conflagration,
they were compelled to extinguish their fire. To prevent themselves from
being frozen to death, they started again in pursuit of the missing
animals, following the trail by moonlight across the bare cold prairies.
Next day their labours were rewarded by the recovery of the mules, and
Mr. Ruxton and his Irish companion began to think of returning. The
latter, by agreement, made at once for the trapper’s cabin; Ruxton, with
the animals, turned off in search of some provisions and packs that had
been left in their hunting encampment. Since morning the sky had
gradually clouded over, and towards sunset had blackened into a dense,
heavy, rolling darkness. The wind had gone down, and a dead, unnatural
calm, the sure precursor of a storm, reigned over the face of nature.
The coyote, mindful of the coming disturbance, was trotting back to his
burrow, and the raven, with swift wings, laboured towards the shelter of
the woods.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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