Hunting -- West (U.S.); Indians of North America -- West (U.S.); West (U.S.) -- Description and travel
The valley here became very broad, and we saw, a long distance off,
three buffaloes grazing under some mosquito-trees, and, when we drew
nearer, Tiger proposed to chase them, as, in the fresh close grass,
there was no other way of getting within shot of them. Suddenly the
buffaloes noticed us and fled, but Tiger set his horse in a gallop, and
stormed after them down the valley. I was just able to see that he had
caught them up, when a small blue cloud of smoke rose before him, and I
shortly after heard the crack of his rifle. He disappeared with the
flying buffaloes on the prairie, and I followed him at a quick amble. At
the spot where I last saw my comrade, thick bushes ran along both sides
of the stream. I went into them, but was obliged to dismount in order
to pass through the thicket. Crossing the wood, I gave my hunting-cry,
which was answered close by, and, a short distance farther on, Tiger
came to meet me, and said that it was no go with the buffaloes either;
he had hit one of them clumsily, and not killed it. The piebald was in a
frightful perspiration, so Tiger turned him round and we reached the
skirt of the wood, where we sat down in the cool shade of the lofty
trees, while our cattle, freed from their loads, grazed around us.
The stream wound out of the forest close by. I had gone to it to fill my
bottle, when I noticed a number of bees on the bank, which, however, did
not fly into the wood, but into the prairie before us. I called up
Tiger, who seated himself by my side, and we accurately observed their
course by the compass, and saw that they all flew to an old plane-tree
which grew in the grass about a thousand yards from us. We went up to
the tree, and found that the bees went to a very large bough, which had
an opening at the top. We fetched our weapons and axes, and brought out
our cattle under the plane, where I also ordered Trusty to lie down.
Then we went up to the tree, whose stem was at least eight feet in
diameter, threw a lasso over the lowest branch, clambered up it, and
went to the branch containing the bees. It was at least a foot and
a-half in thickness, and we had to work with our small axes for nearly
an hour before it gave way, and fell with a crash to the ground, whereon
the startled bees rose like a pillar of smoke, and swarmed off toward
the forest. We soon went down the lasso, and began eating the clear
honey which flowed out of the broken branch. We ate, and took pieces of
the largest combs to our camp, where we laid them in the shade.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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