We soon forgot this incident, and went on with our winter avocations as before. We slightly enlarged our field, which was a fatiguing job, as it lay in the wood, and the bushes grew very close together there. These and the smaller trees were cut down and piled up round the larger ones, after the latter had been out into the wood. After they had dried for a week, they were kindled, which dried the bark of the large trunks, and thus killed the tree. We then set to work with a heavy plough to turn up the ground: this operation is always performed twice or thrice through the winter, before the seed is put in the ground in spring. It may be asked why we did not lay out our field in the prairie, as we should thus have saved this labour? The reason is that the prairie soil is remarkably difficult to plough, because it consists of a black hard earth, in which the delicate young plants have unusually large roots, as hard as glass. I afterwards cultivated land of this sort, and at the first breaking up had six or eight draught cattle fastened to the plough. Then again, this land, owing to its hardness, produces scarce no crop in the first year, in the second a very poor one, in third a moderate one, and not till the fourth a full crop. It is always much more difficult to cultivate than the forest land, as the heavy rains in the winter season always more or less restore its firmness, while the forest soil bears prolifically in the first year. In the garden we had plenty of work too; the potatoes were laid in beds, in order to grow the tap roots, which are cut off in spring and planted out in the field. Then the tobacco beds were put in order, from which the young plants were transplanted in February. The same plant produces among us three or even four crops, as we always leave a young shoot to grow, when the leaves are ripe enough to cut. Then there were vegetables to sow, vines to prune, fruit-trees to graft; in short, we had our hands full, and I only went with Tiger away from the fort to hunt bears, whose fat we were obliged to collect at this time, as it is not nearly so abundant at other seasons. One morning I resolved to go to Mustang Creek, and choose a suitable spot where I could build a carriage bridge across it, as I frequently had meat to fetch from the prairies on the other side, and I also intended to make, by degrees, a passable road to the settlements. I rode away at an early hour, accompanied by Trusty, but at some distance from home I noticed that Milo, an old bear-finder, was running after me, which was a bore, as the good old dog, if he by chance hit on a fresh trail, would be sure to follow it, and I had not intended to hunt bears on this day. The dog was much too slow and deaf, and I only gave him food for the many faithful services he had rendered me: I did not care to ride back, and hence called him closer up to my horse, and continued my journey.