Indians of North America -- Juvenile fiction; Pioneers -- West (U.S.) -- Juvenile fiction; Slavery -- Juvenile fiction
We had determined to go farther from the fort than we had hitherto done,
as the game in the wood we had before hunted in had become scarce,
frightened away by the report of our fire-arms. As we proceeded, we
found the traces of deer become more and more abundant. Frequently we
came suddenly upon one, which started off before we could get a shot.
Now and then we caught sight of a long file of antelopes, who, however,
took care to keep out of our way, and we might as well have chased the
wind as have attempted to overtake them on horseback. It was curious to
observe the manner they imitated the movements of their leader.
Sometimes he would turn round his white breast, and then exhibit his red
flank, when at the same moment a whole line of white breasts or red
flanks were to be seen. Then he would stop, when they would all stop at
once; then he would stamp and advance a step, they all, obedient to the
signal, doing the same. The Dominie remarked that it reminded him of
when he was at school and he and his companions played follow my leader.
Again the headmost animal would wheel to the right, as did his
followers. At last, carrying on this game for some time, they suddenly
winded us and away they all scampered as fast as their agile legs would
carry them, like clouds before the gale.
Although game was thus abundant on the open prairie, we were as well
aware that we should not load our horses, unless we took proper measures
to get near the deer; as the angler is, who sees the fish leap through
the calm surface of a lake in the bright sunshine, that he will not fill
his basket if he does not use the right bait.
There was a wood away to the right, which would, we hoped, afford us an
ambush and enable us to conceal our steeds. We accordingly rode towards
it. As we were moving along the Dominie suddenly pulled up.
"Look at that trail," he said; "that is not the foot-mark of a deer, or
buffalo, or a wolf. If ever I saw the print of a moccasin, that is one.
See, however, the toes are pointing from the wood, though the red-skin,
when he found that he was stepping on soft ground, sprang back, but
probably did not think it worth while to obliterate the mark."
"Possibly there was only a single hunter, and he can do us no harm, even
if he should desire it," I observed; "perhaps indeed, that is the print
of a white man's foot, for many wear moccasins, even in summer."
We searched about, but although we discovered several marks which we
believed were produced by human feet, we could not be certain. Had an
Indian been with us he would have solved the question in a minute. We
therefore remounted, and believing that we were not likely to fall in
with enemies, continued our course.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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