The Western Echo: A Description of the Western State and Territories of the United States. As Gathered in a Tour by WagonRomspert, George W.
History
The Western Echo: A Description of the Western State and Territories of the United States. As Gathered in a Tour by Wagon
Romspert, George W.
West (U.S.) -- Description and travel
like a large flock of sheep, and we could not hear each other speak.
They became so ravenous that they would spring up and clash their
foaming jaws together, sometimes within a few inches of us, and now and
then catching parts of our clothing, and blowing their warm breath in
our faces. It was a critical moment; and had that tree been high enough
I would have climbed up to the moon. But it was the best we could do;
and with our knives in our hands we struck them in the head as they
jumped up. The prey was so near that they lost themselves in anxiety and
rage, and would spring at the tree and gnaw like mad maniacs. This I was
careful to stop with a shot or two from my six-shooter; for should the
tree be weakened in the least we knew very well that it would make but
little difference to us who got to be president of the United States.
We fought them off in this way for several hours, and until there were
many killed and great numbers wounded. All of a sudden--as though their
attention had been attracted by something else--they ran off, howling,
down the stream. This was our opportunity; and leaping quickly to the
ground we grabbed our rifles and ran for another and larger tree that
stood two hundred yards away. We got about half way when we found that
they were coming back; and then there was a race for life. We thought
that the sage-brush were thicker than we had ever seen them; and it
appeared as though the tree were a mile off. On we went, lunging,
leaping, and falling, and the howling became too near to sound nice. The
tree is but a few yards away, yet the brush are rattling at our very
heels and the angry growl is plain to our ears.
The tree is reached, and we each spring for a limb and draw ourselves up
out of the very mouths of our enemies. For a moment we are safe. But,
great horror! Just at that moment Doc.’s limb broke, and he fell back
among the enraged throng. He alighted upon his feet, however, and
leaving his rifle fall and throwing his blanket from his shoulder the
attention of the wolves was slightly diverted, and, quick as a cat, he
sprung for another limb; but before he could draw himself out of the way
several large fellows firmly fastened their fangs in the legs of his
pants, and I thought the show was about over with him. They howled and
raged and tore, with their game in their very jaws; but Doc. held to the
limb with a death-grip, until I shot the wolves that held him down, and,
drawing himself safely up, he heaved a long sigh of relief and appeared
to be surprised to find that his legs and feet were all there, with but
a few light scars.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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