The Story of Louis Riel: The Rebel Chief | Page 4

the stranger who came to found a
colony in the wilderness of which they were sentinels. Here too, in the
hush, for the first time, the planter's ear heard a far-off, nigh indistinct,
sound of galloping thunder. He knew not what it meant, and his
followers surmised that it might be the tumult of some distant waterfall,
borne hither now because a storm was at hand, and the denser air was a
better carrier of the sound. And while they remained wondering what it
could be, for the thunder was ever becoming louder, and,
"Nearer clearer, deadlier than before"
Lo! out of the west came what seemed as a dim shadow moving across
the plain. With bated breath they watched the dark mass moving along
like some destroying tempest with ten thousand devils at its core.
Chained to the ground with a terrible awe they stood fast for many
minutes till at last in the dim light, for the gloaming had come upon the
plains, they see eye-balls that blaze like fire, heads crested with rugged,
uncouth horns and shaggy manes; and then snouts thrust down, flaring
nostrils, and rearing tails.
My God, a buffalo herd, and we'll be trampled to death," almost

shrieked one of the Earl's followers.
"Peace! keep cool! Up, up instantly into these trees!" and the word was
obeyed as if each man was an instrument of the leader's will. Beyond,
in the south-east, a full moon, luscious seeming as some ripened,
mellow fruit, was rising, and the yellow light was all over the plain.
Then the tremendous mass, headed by maddened bulls, with blazing
eyes and foaming nostrils, drove onward toward the south, like an
unchained hurricane. Some of the terrified beasts ran against the trees,
crushing horns and skull, and fell prone upon the plain, to be trampled
into jelly by the hundreds of thousands in the rear. The tree upon which
the earl had taken refuge received many a shock from a crazed bull; and
it seemed to the party from the tree-branches as if all the face of the
plains was being hurled toward the south in a condition of the wildest
turmoil. Hell itself let loose could present no such spectacle as this
myriad mass of brute life sweeping over the lonely plain under the wan,
elfin light of the new-risen moon. Clouds of steam, wreathing itself into
spectral shapes of sullen aspect, rose from the dusky, writhing mass,
and the flaming of more than ten thousand eyeballs in the gloom
presented a picture more terrible than ever came into the imagination of
the writer of the Inferno. The spectacle, as observed by those some
twenty feet from the ground, might be likened somewhat to a turbulent
sea when a sturdy tide sets against the storm, and the mad waves
tumble hither and thither, foiled, and impelled, yet for all the confusion
and obstruction moving in one direction with a sweep and a force that
no power could chain. Circling among and around the strange, dusk
clouds of steam that went up from the herd were scores of turkey
buzzards, their obscene heads bent downward, their sodden eyes
gleaming with expectancy. Well they knew that many a gorgeous feast
awaited them wherever boulder, tree, or swamp lay in the path of the
mighty herd. At last the face of the prairie had ceased its surging; no
lurid eyeball-light gleamed out of the dusk; and the tempest of cattle
had passed the voyageurs and went rolling out into the unbounded
stretches of the dim, yellow plain.
The morrow's sun revealed a strange spectacle. The great amplitude of
rich, green grasses, warmed and beautified by the petals of flowers was

as a ploughed field. The herbage had been literally crushed into mire,
and this the innumerable hoofs had churned up with the soft, rich, dark
soil of the prairie. The leguminous odours from decaying clover, and
rank, matted masses of wild pease, the feverish exhalations of the
tiger-lily, and of the rich blooded "buffalo lilac," together with the dank,
earthy smell from the broken sod, were disagreeable and oppressive.
Lord Selkirk's heart sank within him at seeing the ruin.
"I fear me," he said, "to plant a colony here. A herd of these beasts
coming upon a settlement would be worse than ten thousand spears."
But some of his guides had before seen the impetuous rushing of the
herds, and they assured him that this might not occur again in this
portion of the prairie for a quarter of a century to come.
"At any rate," they persisted, "the buffalo keeps away from regions that
send up chimney-smoke. The chief regret by-and-by will be that the
herds will not come near enough to us." And the Earl was reassured and
proceeded with the steps preliminary