Hunting -- West (U.S.); Indians of North America -- West (U.S.); West (U.S.) -- Description and travel
Most of the ducks and geese that visited us were very like the European,
though rather larger; both are very fat and well tasted, which is
probably caused by the splendid acorns they find among us. We generally
carried a whole load home, from which we merely cut the breasts, legs,
and livers, and boiled them into a jelly.
One afternoon, when Tiger had ridden off at an early hour in pursuit of
game, I took my gun to go after geese down the river, which I heard
croaking from the fort: I went out without calling a dog, and ran down
to the water; I passed the garden and the ford, where the river winds to
the north in the wood, and went into the bushes in order to approach the
geese, which I had seen about a hundred yards farther on. All at once I
heard something like the footfall of a horse echo through the forest on
the opposite side. I listened, and convinced myself that I was not
mistaken. Tiger had gone southward in the morning to Mustang Creek, and
I could not imagine how he was now returning from the north. I lay down
among the bushes, so as to keep an eye on the ford: the noise drew
nearer, till a mounted Indian appeared on a path on the opposite side,
who stopped there and looked cautiously around.
After a while the Redskin crossed the ford, ascended the opposite bank,
and taking his long rifle in his right hand, he led his horse into a
thick bush about forty paces ahead of me. There he fastened it up, laid
his rifle across his left arm, and shook fresh powder into the pan from
his horn. What could the Indian intend, and to what tribe did he belong?
These questions occurred to me simultaneously with the suspicion that he
might probably have hostile designs. My gun was loaded with not very
heavy shot, but it carried as far as the Indian's rifle, though it did
not kill so certainly. I had, however, some slugs in my hunting pouch,
and while he was repriming, I, as I lay flat on the ground, pulled out
two of the largest bullets that fitted my gun. I thrust them both into
the barrels, and then slowly drew the ramrod, pressed two paper wads on
the bullets, and returned the ramrod to its place.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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