Hunting -- West (U.S.); Indians of North America -- West (U.S.); West (U.S.) -- Description and travel
The sun was not very high above the mountains, but it was too early to
spend the night here. Our cattle had rested a little, and so we merely
allowed them to drink, filled our own bottles, and rode merrily on in a
northern course. Tiger was remarkably colloquial on this evening, and
the time slipped away and we scarce noticed that the night had spread
its dark wings over the road, which now wound between conical barren
hills. I remarked to my comrade that we should have a hard camp, which
he denied, and moving his hand across a long chain of hills in front of
us, he said that we should sleep softly on the other side of it. While
saying this he laid his cheek on his hand and closed his eyes.
It was late when we reached this chain of hills. The mountain side was
very steep; although we selected the lowest spot to cross, we were
obliged to dismount and lead our horses. Our foothold grew more and more
uncertain on the loose pebbles, and our horses, too, were obliged to
exert themselves in clambering over the many large stones with which the
ravine was covered.
While we were clambering on in this way, Trusty suddenly growled,
trotted a few yards past us with bristling hair, and then barked into
the depths behind us. Tiger said a jaguar was following us, and put his
rifle under his arm. We at length reached the top, where we let our
animals breathe, and looked back for a long time at the valley behind
us, but could see nothing of our pursuer, although Trusty continued to
growl. We marched along the top, which soon sloped down and allowed us a
glance at the valley on the other side. The slope was not so steep as
the one by which we ascended. The valley before us looked gloomy with
its black shadows, and its depths were covered with a white strip of
fog, while the opposite mountain side, illumined by the moon, glistened
with indistinct bluish tones.
We descended the hill, and in an hour reached the grassy damp bottom,
where we remounted and shortly after pulled up on the bank of a large
river whose other side was bordered by a thick wood. Here we unloaded
our cattle and soon sank into the most tranquil sleep, leaving to
faithful Trusty the care of our safety. His powerful voice soon awoke
us, however, and made us clutch our rifles. We called him back, stirred
up our fire, and as we could see nothing of a foe, we fell asleep again.
The faithful dog awoke us again several times, but when morning broke,
he lay rolled up by the fire, and was fetching up the rest he had lost
in the night.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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