320 I RESTORE HIM HIS HORSE. 



while Mr Canterall was performing these cowardly 

 evolutions, the horse righted himself, got out of the bog, 

 and went trotting off over an endless extent of recently- 

 burned prairie, in a twilight which rendered it very 

 doubtful if I should ever see him again. Casting my eyes 

 upon the bog, while I commanded Mr Canterall to stand 

 still if he wished to continue rubbing his back, and not 

 attemptto run after the horse, I saw a drier-coloured grass, 

 and within thirty yards of the spot where this mischief hap 

 pened, Sylph carried me over without a struggle. I then 

 quietly followed the bay horse, who, when he saw a bound 

 less space of prairie in front of him, all dry and burnt as 

 black as a coal, came back to my mare, when, seizing the 

 rein, I once more delivered him to Mr Canterall. It was 

 dark when we got to the camp at Rock Creek, hounds 

 men, and horses very much tired, when I enjoyed both 

 my dinner and my blankets, though the waggon was not 

 half so comfortable as the tent lent me by my friends 

 while at Fort Blley. 



On the 21st of October we had breakfasted and struck 

 camp by eight o'clock in the morning, and travelling 

 through prairies occasionally settled, we reached the 

 French Indian settlements about one o'clock, and subse 

 quently " Potto wadorny," so pronounced. The popula 

 tion of this considerable village was of all shades of 

 colour, from white to red, and all of them educated in 

 the Roman Catholic faith. On the way we passed 

 through miles and miles of burnt prairies, and indeed 

 before I left Fort Riley the horizon for an immense 

 extent had been one vast area of ruddy reflection. More 

 than once on the road we had had to pass fires still burn 

 ing, the beaten track enabling us just to pass ; the 

 sparks, far from agreeable, were flying all round my 



