114 BUFFALO LAND. 



inland. An illusion which had followed many of us 

 from boyhood was utterly dissipated by the early 

 dawn in this strange land. This was not the fact 

 that^ the "great American desert" of our school-days 

 is not a desert at all, for this we had known for 

 3''ears ; it related to those floods of flame and stifling 

 smoke with which sensational writers of western 

 novels are wont to sweep, as with a besom of de- 

 struction, the whole of prairie-land once at least in 

 every story. Young America, wasting uncounted 

 gallons of midnight oil in the perusal of peppery 

 tales of border life, little suspects how slight the 

 foundation uj^on which his favorite author has reared 

 his whole vast superstructure of thrilling adventure. 



The scene of these heart-rending narratives is usu- 

 ally laid in a boundless plain covered with tall 

 grass, and the dramatis personce are an indefinite 

 number of buffalo and Indians, a painfully definite 

 one of emigrants, two persons unhappy enough to 

 possess a beautiful daughter, and a lover still more 

 unhappy in endeavoring to acquire title, a rascally 

 half-breed burning to prevent the latter feat, and a 

 rare old plainsman specially brought into existence to 

 " sarcumvent " him. 



At the most critical juncture the " waving sea of 

 grass" usually takes fire, in an unaccountable man- 

 ner — perhaps from the hot condition of the com- 

 batants, or the quantities of burning love and re- 

 venge which are recklessly scattered about. Multi- 

 tudes of frightened buffalo and gay gazelles make the 

 ground shake in getting out of the way, and the 

 flames go to licking the clouds, while the emigrants 



