We followed this trail, and after traveling seven or eight miles, we came to a small stream, where we encamped.  Our position was not chosen with much forethought or military skill.  The water was in a deep hollow, with steep, high banks; on the grassy bottom of this hollow we picketed our horses, while we ourselves encamped upon the barren prairie just above.  The opportunity was admirable either for driving off our horses or attacking us.  After dark, as Tete Rouge was sitting at supper, we observed him pointing with a face of speechless horror over the shoulder of Henry, who was opposite to him.  Aloof amid the darkness appeared a gigantic black apparition; solemnly swaying to and fro, it advanced steadily upon us.  Henry, half vexed and half amused, jumped up, spread out his arms, and shouted.  The invader was an old buffalo bull, who with characteristic stupidity, was walking directly into camp.  It cost some shouting and swinging of hats before we could bring him first to a halt and then to a rapid retreat.

That night the moon was full and bright; but as the black clouds chased rapidly over it, we were at one moment in light and at the next in darkness.  As the evening advanced, a thunderstorm came up; it struck us with such violence that the tent would have been blown over if we had not interposed the cart to break the force of the wind.  At length it subsided to a steady rain.  I lay awake through nearly the whole night, listening to its dull patter upon the canvas above.  The moisture, which filled the tent and trickled from everything in it, did not add to the comfort of the situation.  About twelve o’clock Shaw went out to stand guard amid the rain and pitch darkness.  Munroe, the most vigilant as well as one of the bravest among us, was also on the alert.  When about two hours had passed, Shaw came silently in, and touching Henry, called him in a low quick voice to come out.  “What is it?” I asked.  “Indians, I believe,” whispered Shaw; “but lie still; I’ll call you if there’s a fight.”

He and Henry went out together.  I took the cover from my rifle, put a fresh percussion cap upon it, and then, being in much pain, lay down again.  In about five minutes Shaw came in again.  “All right,” he said, as he lay down to sleep.  Henry was now standing guard in his place.  He told me in the morning the particulars of the alarm.  Munroe’ s watchful eye discovered some dark objects down in the hollow, among the horses, like men creeping on all fours.  Lying flat on their faces, he and Shaw crawled to the edge of the bank, and were soon convinced that what they saw were Indians.  Shaw silently withdrew to call Henry, and they all lay watching in the same position.  Henry’s eye is of the best on the prairie.  He detected after a while the true nature of the moving objects; they were nothing but wolves creeping among the horses.

It is very singular that when picketed near a camp horses seldom show any fear of such an intrusion.  The wolves appear to have no other object than that of gnawing the trail-ropes of raw hide by which the animals are secured.  Several times in the course of the journey my horse’s trail-rope was bitten in two by these nocturnal visitors.