NOTICE OF THE ROUTE. 247 



shoulderward, when it unceremoniously discharo^ed itself, burying its ball 

 in the lights of the buffiilo — the very spot I should have selected had it been 

 optional with myself. The old follow stagg-ered a few steps find fell dead! 

 My companion coming up, we soon completed the process of butchering, 

 and, after furnishing ourselves with an ample supply of choice beef, pro- 

 ceeded to a neighboring creek, where, finding a few sticks of drift-wood, a 

 fire was quickly kindled, and we ended our fast of five successive days and 

 nights with feasting and glad hearts. 



I have always regarded this event as a special Providence, and ever re- 

 vert to it with no ordinary feelings of gratitude. Had the ball, thus acci- 

 dentally discharged, missed the animal, or had it only wounded him, in all 

 human probability, becoming alarmed at the presence of danger, and 

 prompted by the instinct common to the species, he would soon have been 

 beyond the reach of pursuit, leaving me to the dernier resort of slaughter- 

 ing my horse or perishing among the snows and chill blasts of the prairie. 

 Enfeebled as we were from continued toil and suffering, we could have 

 scarcely held out a day longer, and even the partial relief afforded by a 

 poor supply of horse flesh, left, as we would have been, to travel on foot and 

 carry our beds, guns, and provisions, must have served only to prolong our 

 miseries a brief space, finally to meet the inevitable fate that threatened 

 us ! as this solitary buffalo was the only living creature that met our view 

 during the entire journey. 



I have never consented to dispose of the rough-looking piece long pre- 

 viously christened " Old Straightener," and, when asked the reason, have 

 uniformly replied, " It is the only gun I ever saw or heard of that has kill- 

 ed game of its own accord ! 



The second day succeeding this occurrence, my companion left me to ob- 

 tain his mule, and I completed the remainder of my journey alone, — arriving 

 the appointed rendezvous late in the afternoon of the 20th of March. 



The country travelled over, from the Platte to the Arkansas, near the 

 mouth of Fontaine qui Bouit, has been fully described in former pages. 



My route, from the mouth of this stream, followed the Arkansas for some 

 forty miles. The landscape, back from the river- bottoms, was quite undu- 

 lating, presenting upon the left a superfice of gravel, clay, and sand, mixed 

 with vegetable matter ; and, upon the right, a light, sandy soil, somewhat 

 sterile and unproductive. 



Many rich spots of a deep bluish loam meet the eye of the traveller, in- 

 terspersed with spreads of naked sand, or clay whitened by exuding salts, or 

 clothed in dwarfish grass ; among which numerous clusters of absinthe, 

 frequently five or six feet high, are seen in almost every direction. 



The country, as a general thing, is evidently ill-adapted to other than 

 grazing purposes. 



Two broad beds of sand-creeks are passed upon the left, a few miles be- 

 low Fontaine qui Bouit, one of which is Black Squirrel creek, and the other 

 is known as the Wolf's Den. Upon the right, the Rio San Carlos, Cor- 

 nua Virda, Apache, and Huaquetorie, after tracing their serpentine courses 

 from the Taos Mountains, commingle with the Arkansas. 



Some six miles below the mouth of Fontaine qui Bouit are the ruins of 



