300 ( HUNTING SPOETS OF THE WEST. 



regaining our hotel, after a long and wet day's work, I 

 looked forward with some complacency to a good night's 

 rest. Vain hope ! our ruthless man of skulls had coa- 

 verted s the bar-room, separated by a thin deal floor from 

 my chamber, into his Golgotha, and harangued a half- 

 drunken audience till long after midnight, to the utter 

 expulsion of the balmy god. I did not pray for him that 

 night ! Even the hardy Barns never closed an eye. Had 

 a dozen whooping "Redskins " of the prairie rushed upon 

 the nocturnal orgies of the Professor, and, commenced their 

 own peculiar experiments upon his cranium, I would not 

 have pulled a trigger in his defence ! 



On the 8th of * October, we left Fox River, and, by a 

 fresh route across the plains, commenced our retreat. 

 Crossing the "Nine-mile Prairie," there was scarcely a 

 stick of timber, a hut ? or other object, within the range 

 of vision. Now and then our driver would draw our at- 

 tention to an almost invisible atom on the "billowy 

 plain," which proved to be a single horseman hunting for 

 his cattle, turned out to graze on the fenceless pastures. 

 Anon, we descried afar off, a heavy canvass-topped 

 wagon, crawling slowly westward, like a huge white mag- 

 got its interior filled with the personnel and materiel 

 of a migrating family. On approaching us, eager faces 

 were protruded from the rude vehicle ; and earnest in- 

 quiries regarding distances, .the "chills and fever" 

 (ague.) or other equally urgent matters, were shouted 

 out. Many a weary mile had these adventurous people 

 traveled from their late home towards the setting sun ; 

 and they were now, perhaps, drawing nigh the bourne 

 of their pilgrimage ! 



