LIFE IN THE FAR WEST 79 



was the sleep and deep, which sealed the eyes of the 

 contented trappers that night. It felt like the old 

 thing, they said, to be once more amongst the "meat " 

 and, as they were drawing near the dangerous portion 

 of the trail, they felt at home; although they now could 

 never be confident, when they lay down at night upon 

 their buffalo robes, of awaking again in this life, knowing, 

 as they did, full well, that savage men lurked near, 

 thirsting for their blood. 



However, no enemies showed themselves as yet, and 

 they proceeded quietly up the river, vast herds of 

 buffaloes darkening the plains around them, affording 

 them more than abundance of the choicest meat ; but, 

 to their credit be it spoken, no more was killed than was 

 absolutely required unlike the cruel slaughter made 

 by most of the white travellers across the plains, who 

 wantonly destroy these noble animals, not even for the 

 excitement of sport, but in cold-blooded and insane 

 butchery. La Bont6 had practice enough to perfect him 

 in the art, and, before the buffalo range was passed, he 

 was ranked as a first-rate hunter. One evening he had 

 left the camp for meat, and was approaching a band of 

 cows for that purpose, crawling towards them along the 

 bed of a dry hollow in the prairie, when he observed 

 them suddenly jump towards him, and immediately 

 afterwards a score of mounted Indians appeared, whom, 

 by their dress, he at once knew to be Pawnees and 

 enemies. Thinking they might not discover him, he 

 crouched down in the ravine ; but a noise behind caused 

 him to turn his head, and he saw some five or six 



