52 THE PRAIRIES. 



Among the dangers to which the traveller across the prairie 

 is exposed, the most fearful is that of tire. The sky is 

 bright overhead ; the tall grass, which has already assumed 

 a yellow tinge from the heat of summer, waves round him, 

 affording abundant pasture to his steed. Suddenly his guides 

 rise in their stirrups and look anxiously towards the horizon. 

 He sees, perhaps, a white column of smoke rising in the clear 

 air. It is so far off that it seems it can but little concern 

 them. The guides, however, think differently, and after a 

 moment's consultation point eagerly in the direction of some 

 broad river, whose waters flow towards the Mississippi. 

 " Oward ! onward!" is the cry. They put spurs to their 

 horses' flanks, and gallop for their lives. Every instant the 

 column of smoke increases in width, till it extends directly 

 across the horizon. It grows denser and denser. Now above 

 the tall grass flashes of bright light can be seen. The traveller 

 almost fancies he can hear the crackling of the flames as 

 they seize all combustible substances in their course. Now 

 they surround a grove of aspens, and the fierce fire blazes 

 up more brightly than ever towards the sky, over which 

 hangs a dark canopy of smoke. Suddenly a distant tram]) 

 of feet is heard. The very ground trembles. A dark mass 

 approaches — a phalanx of horns and streaming manes. It 

 is a herd of buffaloes, turned by the fire purposely ignited 

 by the Indians. The guides urge the travellers to increase 

 their speed ; for if overtaken by the maddened animals, they 

 will be struck down and trampled to death. Happily they 

 escape the surging herd which comes sweeping onward — 

 thousands of dark forms pressed together, utterly regardless 

 of the human beings who have so narrowly escaped them. 

 The travellers gallop on till their eyes arc gladdened by tho 



