The Hunters' Feast: Conversations Around the Camp Fire, Page 2

  CHAPTER TWO.

  THE CAMP AND CAMP-FIRE.

  Our route was west by south. The nearest point with which we expectedto fall in with the buffalo was two hundred miles distant. We mighttravel three hundred without seeing one, and even much farther at thepresent day; but a report had reached Saint Louis that the buffalo hadbeen seen that year upon the Osage River, west of the Ozark Hills, andtowards that point we steered our course. We expected in about twentydays to fall in with the game. Fancy a cavalcade of hunters making ajourney of twenty days to get upon the field! The reader will, nodoubt, say we were in earnest.

  At the time of which I am writing, a single day's journey from SaintLouis carried the traveller clear of civilised life. There weresettlements beyond; but these were sparse and isolated--a few smalltowns or plantations upon the main watercourses--and the whole countrybetween them was an uninhabited wilderness. We had no hope of beingsheltered by a roof until our return to the mound city itself, but wehad provided ourselves with a couple of tents, part of the freight ofour waggon.

  There are but few parts of the American wilderness where the travellercan depend upon wild game for a subsistence. Even the skilled hunterwhen stationary is sometimes put to his wits' end for "daily bread."Upon the "route" no great opportunity is found of killing game, whichalways requires time to approach it with caution. Although we passedthrough what appeared to be excellent cover for various species of wildanimals, we reached our first camp without having ruffled either hair orfeathers. In fact, neither bird nor quadruped had been seen, althoughalmost every one of the party had been on the look out for game duringmost of the journey.

  This was rather discouraging, and we reasoned that if such was to be ourluck until we got into the buffalo-range we should have a very dull timeof it. We were well provisioned, however, and we regretted the absenceof game only on account of the sport. A large bag of biscuit, and oneof flour, several pieces of "hung bacon," some dry ox-tongues, a stockof green coffee, sugar, and salt, were the principal and necessarystores. There were "luxuries," too, which each had provided accordingto his fancy, though not much of these, as every one of the party hadhad some time or other in his life a little experience in the way of"roughing it." Most of the loading of the waggon consisted of provenderfor our horses and mules.

  We made full thirty miles on the first day. Our road was a good one.We passed over easy undulations, most of them covered with "black-jack."This is a species of dwarf oak, so called from the very dark colour ofits wrinkled bark. It is almost worthless as a timber, being too smallfor most purposes. It is ornamental, however, forming copse-like grovesupon the swells of the prairie, while its dark green foliage contrastspleasantly with the lighter green of the grasses beneath its shade. Theyoung botanist, Besancon, had least cause to complain. His time hadbeen sufficiently pleasant during the day. New foliage fell under hisobservation--new flowers opened their corollas to his delighted gaze.He was aided in making his collections by the hunter-naturalist, who ofcourse was tolerably well versed in this kindred science.

  We encamped by the edge of a small creek of clear water. Our camp waslaid out in due form, and everything arranged in the order we designedhabitually to follow.

  Every man unsaddled his own horse. There are no servants inprairie-land. Even Lanty's services extended not beyond the _cuisine_,and for this department he had had his training as the cook of a NewOrleans trading ship. Jake had enough to do with his mules; and to haveasked one of our hunter-guides to perform the task of unsaddling yourhorse, would have been a hazardous experiment. Menial service to a freetrapper! There are no servants in prairie-land.

  Our horses and mules were picketed on a piece of open ground, eachhaving his "trail-rope," which allowed a circuit of several yards. Thetwo tents were pitched side by side, facing the stream, and the waggondrawn up some twenty feet in the rear. In the triangle between thewaggon and the tents was kindled a large fire, upon each side of whichtwo stakes, forked at the top, were driven into the ground. A longsapling resting in the forks traversed the blaze from side to side.This was Lanty's "crane,"--the fire was his kitchen.

  Let me sketch the camp more minutely, for our first camp was a type ofall the others in its general features. Sometimes indeed the tents didnot front the same way, when these openings were set to "oblige thewind," but they were always placed side by side in front of the waggon.They were small tents of the old-fashioned conical kind, requiring onlyone pole each. They were of sufficient size for our purpose, as therewere only three of us to each--the guides, with Jake and Lanty, findingtheir lodgment under the tilt of the waggon. With their graceful shape,and snowy-white colour against the dark green foliage of the trees, theyformed an agreeable contrast; and a _coup d'oeil_ of the camp would havebeen no mean picture to the eye of an artist. The human figures may bearranged in the following manner.

  Supper is getting ready, and Lanty is decidedly at this time the mostimportant personage on the ground. He is stooping over the fire, with asmall but long-handled frying-pan, in which he is parching the coffee.It is already browned, and Lanty stirs it about with an iron spoon. Thecrane carries the large coffee-kettle of sheet iron, full of water uponthe boil; and a second frying-pan, larger than the first, is filled withsliced ham, ready to be placed upon the hot cinders.

  Our English friend Thompson is seated upon a log, with the hat-boxbefore him. It is open, and he has drawn out from it his stock of combsand brushes. He has already made his ablutions, and is now giving thefinish to his toilet, by putting his hair, whiskers, moustache, teeth,and even his nails, in order. Your Englishman is the most comfortabletraveller in the world.

  The Kentuckian is differently engaged. He is upon his feet; in one handgleams a knife with ivory handle and long shining blade. It is a"bowie," of that kind known as an "Arkansas toothpick." In the otherhand you see an object about eight inches in length, of the form of aparallelogram, and of a dark brown colour. It is a "plug" of real"James's River tobacco." With his knife the Kentuckian cuts off apiece--a "chunk," as he terms it--which is immediately transferred tohis mouth, and chewed to a pulp. This is his occupation for the moment.

  The doctor, what of him? Doctor Jopper may be seen close to the water'sedge. In his hand is a pewter flask, of the kind known as a "pocketpistol." That pistol is loaded with brandy, and Dr Jopper is just inthe act of drawing part of the charge, which, with a slight admixture ofcool creek water, is carried aloft and poured into a very droughtyvessel. The effect, however, is instantly apparent in the livelytwinkle of the doctor's round and prominent eyes.

  Besancon is seated near the tent, and the old naturalist beside him.The former is busy with the new plants he has collected. A largeportfolio-looking book rests upon his knees, and between its leaves heis depositing his stores in a scientific manner. His companion, whounderstands the business well, is kindly assisting him. Theirconversation is interesting, but every one else is too busy with hisaffairs to listen to it just now.

  The guides are lounging about the waggon. Old Ike fixes a new flint inhis rifle, and Redwood, of a more mirthful disposition, is occasionallycracking a joke with Mike or the "darkey."

  Jake is still busy with his mules, and I with my favourite steed, whosefeet I have washed in the stream, and anointed with a little sparegrease. I shall not always have the opportunity of being so kind tohim, but he will need it the less, as his hoofs become more hardened bythe journey.

  Around the camp are strewed our saddles, bridles, blankets, weapons, andutensils. These will all be collected and stowed under cover before wego to rest. Such is a picture of our camp before supper.

  When that meal is cooked, the scene somewhat changes.

  The atmosphere, even at that season, was cool enough, and this, withMike's announcement that the coffee was ready, brought all the party--guides as well--around the blazing pile of logs. Each found his ownplatter, knife, and cup; and, helping himself from the general stock,set to eating on hi
s own account. Of course there were no fragments, asa strict regard to economy was one of the laws of our camp.

  Notwithstanding the fatigue, always incidental to a first day's march,we enjoyed this _al fresco_ supper exceedingly. The novelty had much todo with our enjoyment of it, and also the fine appetites which we hadacquired since our luncheon at noon halt.

  When supper was over, smoking followed, for there was not one of theparty who was not an inveterate burner of the "noxious weed." Somechose cigars, of which we had brought a good stock, but several werepipe-smokers. The zoologist carried a meerschaum; the guides smoked outof Indian calumets of the celebrated steatite, or red claystone. Mikehad his dark-looking "dudeen," and Jake his pipe of corn "cob" andcane-joint shank.

  Our English friend Thompson had a store of the finest Havannahs, whichhe smoked with the grace peculiar to the English cigar smoker; holdinghis cigar impaled upon the point of his knife-blade. Kentucky alsosmoked cigars, but his was half buried within his mouth, slantedobliquely towards the right cheek. Besancon preferred the papercigarette, which he made extempore, as he required them, out of a stockof loose tobacco. This is Creole fashion--now also the _mode de Paris_.

  A song from the doctor enlivened the conversation, and certainly somelodious a human voice had never echoed near the spot. One and allagreed that the grand opera had missed a capital "first tenor" in notsecuring the services of our companion.

  The fatigue of our long ride caused us to creep into our tents at anearly hour, and rolling ourselves in our blankets we went to sleep. Ofcourse everything had been carefully gathered in lest rain might fall inthe night. The trail-ropes of our animals were looked to: we did notfear their being stolen, but horses on their first few days' journey areeasily "stampeded," and will sometimes stray home again. This wouldhave been a great misfortune, but most of us were old travellers, andevery caution was observed in securing against such a result. There wasno guard kept, though we knew the time would come when that would be anecessary duty.