The Hunters Feast | Page 8

been carefully gathered in lest rain might fall in the
night. The trail-ropes of our animals were looked to: we did not fear
their being stolen, but horses on their first few days' journey are easily
"stampeded," and will sometimes stray home again. This would have
been a great misfortune, but most of us were old travellers, and every
caution was observed in securing against such a result. There was no
guard kept, though we knew the time would come when that would be
a necessary duty.
CHAPTER THREE.
BESANCON'S ADVENTURE IN THE SWAMPS.
The prairie traveller never sleeps after daybreak. He is usually astir
before that time. He has many "chores" to perform, unknown to the
ordinary traveller who rests in the roadside inn. He has to pack up his
tent and bed, cook his own breakfast, and saddle his horse. All this

requires time, therefore an early start is necessary.
We were on our feet before the sun had shown his disc above the
black-jacks. Lanty had the start of us, and had freshened up his fire.
Already the coffee-kettle was bubbling audibly, and the great
frying-pan perfumed the camp with an incense more agreeable than the
odours of Araby.
The raw air of the morning had brought everybody around the fire.
Thompson was pruning and cleansing his nails; the Kentuckian was
cutting a fresh "chunk" from his plug of "James's River;" the doctor had
just returned from the stream, where he had refreshed himself by a
"nip" from his pewter flask; Besancon was packing up his portfolios;
the zoologist was lighting his long pipe, and the "Captain" was looking
to his favourite horse, while inhaling the fragrance of an "Havannah."
The guides stood with their blankets hanging from their shoulders silent
and thoughtful.
In half an hour breakfast was over, the tents and utensils were restored
to the waggon, the horses were brought in and saddled, the mules
"hitched up," and the expedition once more on its way.
This day we made not quite so good a journey. The roads were heavier,
the country more thickly timbered, and the ground more hilly. We had
several small streams to ford, and this retarded our progress. Twenty
miles was the extent of our journey.
We encamped again without any of us having killed or seen game.
Although we had beaten the bushes on both sides of our course,
nothing bigger than the red-bird (scarlet tanager, Pyranga rubra), a
screaming jay, or an occasional flight of finches, gratified our sight.
We reached our camp somewhat disappointed. Even old Ike and
Redwood came into camp without game, alleging also that they had not
met with the sign of a living quadruped.
Our second camp was also on the bank of a small stream. Shortly after
our arrival on the ground, Thompson started out afoot, taking with him

his gun. He had noticed a tract of marsh at no great distance off. He
thought it promised well for snipe.
He had not been long gone, when two reports echoed back, and then
shortly after another and another. He had found something to empty his
gun at.
Presently we saw him returning with a brace and a half of birds that
looked very much like large snipe. So he thought them, but that
question was set at rest by the zoologist, who pronounced them at once
to be the American "Curlew" of Wilson (Numenius longirostris).
Curlew or snipe, they were soon divested of the feathery coat, and
placed in Lanty's frying-pan. Excellent eating they proved, having only
the fault that there was not enough of them.
These birds formed the topic of our after-supper conversation, and then
it generalised to the different species of wading birds of America, and
at length that singular creature, the "ibis," became the theme. This came
round by Besancon remarking that a species of ibis was brought by the
Indians to the markets of New Orleans, and sold there under the name
of "Spanish Curlew." This was the white ibis (Tantalus albas), which
the zoologist stated was found in plenty along the whole southern coast
of the United States. There were two other species, he said, natives of
the warm parts of North America, the "wood-ibis" (Tantalus loculator),
which more nearly resembles the sacred ibis of Egypt, and the beautiful
"sacred ibis" (Tantalus ruber), which last is rarer than the others.
Our venerable companion, who had the ornithology of America, if I
may use the expression, at his fingers' ends, imparted many curious
details of the habits of these rare birds. All listened with interest to his
statements--even the hunter-guides, for with all their apparent rudeness
of demeanour, there was a dash of the naturalist in these fellows.
When the zoologist became silent, the young Creole took up the
conversation.