A great flock of buzzards were usually soaring about a few trees that stood on the island just below our camp.Throughout the whole of yesterday we had noticed an eagle among them; to-day he was still there; and Tete Rouge, declaring that he would kill the bird of America, borrowed Delorier's gun and set out on his unpatriotic mission.As might have been expected, the eagle suffered no great harm at his hands.He soon returned, saying that he could not find him, but had shot a buzzard instead.Being required to produce the bird in proof of his assertion he said he believed he was not quite dead, but he must be hurt, from the swiftness with which he flew off.
"If you want," said Tete Rouge, "I'll go and get one of his feathers;I knocked off plenty of them when I shot him."Just opposite our camp was another island covered with bushes, and behind it was a deep pool of water, while two or three considerable streams course'd over the sand not far off.I was bathing at this place in the afternoon when a white wolf, larger than the largest Newfoundland dog, ran out from behind the point of the island, and galloped leisurely over the sand not half a stone's throw distant.Icould plainly see his red eyes and the bristles about his snout; he was an ugly scoundrel, with a bushy tail, large head, and a most repulsive countenance.Having neither rifle to shoot nor stone to pelt him with, I was looking eagerly after some missile for his benefit, when the report of a gun came from the camp, and the ball threw up the sand just beyond him; at this he gave a slight jump, and stretched away so swiftly that he soon dwindled into a mere speck on the distant sand-beds.The number of carcasses that by this time were lying about the prairie all around us summoned the wolves from every quarter; the spot where Shaw and Henry had hunted together soon became their favorite resort, for here about a dozen dead buffalo were fermenting under the hot sun.I used often to go over the river and watch them at their meal; by lying under the bank it was easy to get a full view of them.Three different kinds were present; there were the white wolves and the gray wolves, both extremely large, and besides these the small prairie wolves, not much bigger than spaniels.They would howl and fight in a crowd around a single carcass, yet they were so watchful, and their senses so acute, that Inever was able to crawl within a fair shooting distance; whenever Iattempted it, they would all scatter at once and glide silently away through the tall grass.The air above this spot was always full of buzzards or black vultures; whenever the wolves left a carcass they would descend upon it, and cover it so densely that a rifle-bullet shot at random among the gormandizing crowd would generally strike down two or three of them.These birds would now be sailing by scores just about our camp, their broad black wings seeming half transparent as they expanded them against the bright sky.The wolves and the buzzards thickened about us with every hour, and two or three eagles also came into the feast.I killed a bull within rifle-shot of the camp; that night the wolves made a fearful howling close at hand, and in the morning the carcass was completely hollowed out by these voracious feeders.
After we had remained four days at this camp we prepared to leave it.
We had for our own part about five hundred pounds of dried meat, and the California men had prepared some three hundred more; this consisted of the fattest and choicest parts of eight or nine cows, a very small quantity only being taken from each, and the rest abandoned to the wolves.The pack animals were laden, the horses were saddled, and the mules harnessed to the cart.Even Tete Rouge was ready at last, and slowly moving from the ground, we resumed our journey eastward.When we had advanced about a mile, Shaw missed a valuable hunting knife and turned back in search of it, thinking that he had left it at the camp.He approached the place cautiously, fearful that Indians might be lurking about, for a deserted camp is dangerous to return to.He saw no enemy, but the scene was a wild and dreary one; the prairie was overshadowed by dull, leaden clouds, for the day was dark and gloomy.The ashes of the fires were still smoking by the river side; the grass around them was trampled down by men and horses, and strewn with all the litter of a camp.Our departure had been a gathering signal to the birds and beasts of prey; Shaw assured me that literally dozens of wolves were prowling about the smoldering fires, while multitudes were roaming over the prairie around; they all fled as he approached, some running over the sand-beds and some over the grassy plains.The vultures in great clouds were soaring overhead, and the dead bull near the camp was completely blackened by the flock that had alighted upon it; they flapped their broad wings, and stretched upward their crested heads and long skinny necks, fearing to remain, yet reluctant to leave their disgusting feast.As he searched about the fires he saw the wolves seated on the distant hills waiting for his departure.Having looked in vain for his knife, he mounted again, and left the wolves and the vultures to banquet freely upon the carrion of the camp.
