As I looked at the partner of my watch, puffing and blowing over his fire, it occurred to me that he might not prove the most efficient auxiliary in time of trouble.

“Delorier,” said I, “would you run away if the Pawnees should fire at us?”

“Ah! oui, oui, monsieur!” he replied very decisively.

I did not doubt the fact, but was a little surprised at the frankness of the confession.

At this instant a most whimsical variety of voices—­barks, howls, yelps, and whines—­all mingled as it were together, sounded from the prairie, not far off, as if a whole conclave of wolves of every age and sex were assembled there.  Delorier looked up from his work with a laugh, and began to imitate this curious medley of sounds with a most ludicrous accuracy.  At this they were repeated with redoubled emphasis, the musician being apparently indignant at the successful efforts of a rival.  They all proceeded from the throat of one little wolf, not larger than a spaniel, seated by himself at some distance.  He was of the species called the prairie wolf; a grim-visaged, but harmless little brute, whose worst propensity is creeping among horses and gnawing the ropes of raw hide by which they are picketed around the camp.  But other beasts roam the prairies, far more formidable in aspect and in character.  These are the large white and gray wolves, whose deep howl we heard at intervals from far and near.

At last I fell into a doze, and, awakening from it, found Delorier fast asleep.  Scandalized by this breach of discipline, I was about to stimulate his vigilance by stirring him with the stock of my rifle; but compassion prevailing, I determined to let him sleep awhile, and then to arouse him, and administer a suitable reproof for such a forgetfulness of duty.  Now and then I walked the rounds among the silent horses, to see that all was right.  The night was chill, damp, and dark, the dank grass bending under the icy dewdrops.  At the distance of a rod or two the tents were invisible, and nothing could be seen but the obscure figures of the horses, deeply breathing, and restlessly starting as they slept, or still slowly champing the grass.  Far off, beyond the black outline of the prairie, there was a ruddy light, gradually increasing, like the glow of a conflagration; until at length the broad disk of the moon, blood-red, and vastly magnified by the vapors, rose slowly upon the darkness, flecked by one or two little clouds, and as the light poured over the gloomy plain, a fierce and stern howl, close at hand, seemed to greet it as an unwelcome intruder.  There was something impressive and awful in the place and the hour; for I and the beasts were all that had consciousness for many a league around.

Some days elapsed, and brought us near the Platte.  Two men on horseback approached us one morning, and we watched them with the curiosity and interest that, upon the solitude of the plains, such an encounter always excites.  They were evidently whites, from their mode of riding, though, contrary to the usage of that region, neither of them carried a rifle.