The Wolf Hunters: A Story of the Buffalo PlainsPeck, Robert Morris
General
The Wolf Hunters: A Story of the Buffalo Plains
Peck, Robert Morris
Frontier and pioneer life -- Kansas; Hunting -- Kansas
"No! no Injuns! See the big smoke over the tree tops? Prairie's all
afire out that way! Comin' fast! I'm afraid Jack's caught in it. I saw
him just before I noticed the fire. He was out in the bottom 'bout
midway between the timber and the lodge-pole trail, a-working on a
buffalo he'd killed, and just then I noticed a lone Injun riding along
the trail the other side of Jack; and I saw the infernal rascal halt
when he got right to windward of Jack, and dismount and squat down in
the grass; and then come a puff of smoke and the prairie was afire. And
then the Injun got on his pony and galloped along the trail a piece and
fired the grass again. And this he repeated several times. The cuss had
seen Jack and fired the grass to try to burn him up, and I'm afraid
he's done it, for I don't see how Jack could escape without he could
fly, for when I left the bluff the fires had all run together and were
a-coming toward Jack like a race-horse, in a wall of flames that seemed
to leap twenty feet high at times."
"What can we do, Tom?" I asked. "Can't we do something to help him?"
"I don't see what we can do," replied the old man with a look of
despair, "but you run down to the stable and clap the saddle onto
Prince, and be ready to go and look for what's left of him soon as the
fire burns out. It'll stop when it gets to the creek and quick as the
smoke clears away so's you can stand it, you be ready to light out."
I rushed to the stable and he followed me, talking as I saddled up.
"Near as I could make him out through the glass, I believe it's that
infernal old Broken Nose that's done this job. It looked some like him
and I noticed he climbed on and off his pony like an old man."
I soon had Prince saddled and led him up onto the bank, where we
impatiently waited what seemed an endless time but was really only a
few minutes.
The fire was now roaring and crackling just beyond the strip of timber
bordering the creek. The smoke would probably have been stifling in our
camp by this time, but on striking the timber the wind had given it an
upward pitch that sent most of it above us.
The fire kept up such a roaring and rushing noise that I began to fear
that the wind might carry some of it across the creek, but as soon as
it entered the timber on the north side, where the grass was shorter, a
marked subsidence was apparent.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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