His mind was full of dismal presentiments, whether from
mysterious dreams, or the intimations of the medicine wolf, does not
appear. "Danger," he said, "was lurking in their path, and there would
be some fighting before sunset." He was bantered for his prophecy, which
was attributed to his having supped too heartily, and been visited by
bad dreams. In the course of the morning a party of hunters set out in
pursuit of buffaloes, taking with them a mule, to bring home the meat
they should procure. They had been some few hours absent, when they came
clattering at full speed into camp, giving the war cry of Blackfeet!
Blackfeet! Every one seized his weapon and ran to learn the cause of the
alarm. It appeared that the hunters, as they were returning leisurely,
leading their mule well laden with prime pieces of buffalo meat, passed
close by a small stream overhung with trees, about two miles from
the camp. Suddenly a party of Blackfeet, who lay in ambush along the
thickets, sprang up with a fearful yell, and discharged a volley at the
hunters. The latter immediately threw themselves flat on their horses,
put them to their speed, and never paused to look behind, until they
found themselves in camp. Fortunately they had escaped without a wound;
but the mule, with all the "provant," had fallen into the hands of the
enemy This was a loss, as well as an insult, not to be borne. Every
man sprang to horse, and with rifle in hand, galloped off to punish
the Blackfeet, and rescue the buffalo beef.
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