robes, we spent several hours of the night during which the storm would not abate for a moment, but pelted down above our heads with merciless fury.  Before long the ground beneath us became soaked with moisture, and the water gathered there in a pool two or three inches deep; so that for a considerable part of the night we were partially immersed in a cold bath.  In spite of all this, Tete Rouge’s flow of spirits did not desert him for an instant, he laughed, whistled, and sung in defiance of the storm, and that night he paid off the long arrears of ridicule which he owed us.  While we lay in silence, enduring the infliction with what philosophy we could muster, Tete Rouge, who was intoxicated with animal spirits, was cracking jokes at our expense by the hour together.  At about three o’clock in the morning, “preferring the tyranny of the open night” to such a wretched shelter, we crawled out from beneath the fallen canvas.  The wind had abated, but the rain fell steadily.  The fire of the California men still blazed amid the darkness, and we joined them as they sat around it.  We made ready some hot coffee by way of refreshment; but when some of the party sought to replenish their cups, it was found that Tete Rouge, having disposed of his own share, had privately abstracted the coffee-pot and drank up the rest of the contents out of the spout.

In the morning, to our great joy, an unclouded sun rose upon the prairie.  We presented rather a laughable appearance, for the cold and clammy buckskin, saturated with water, clung fast to our limbs; the light wind and warm sunshine soon dried them again, and then we were all incased in armor of intolerable rigidity.  Roaming all day over the prairie and shooting two or three bulls, were scarcely enough to restore the stiffened leather to its usual pliancy.

Besides Henry Chatillon, Shaw and I were the only hunters in the party.  Munroe this morning made an attempt to run a buffalo, but his horse could not come up to the game.  Shaw went out with him, and being better mounted soon found himself in the midst of the herd.  Seeing nothing but cows and calves around him, he checked his horse.  An old bull came galloping on the open prairie at some distance behind, and turning, Shaw rode across his path, leveling his gun as he passed, and shooting him through the shoulder into the heart.  The heavy bullets of Shaw’s double-barreled gun made wild work wherever they struck.

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.