The timber gradually diminished, until they
could scarcely find fuel sufficient for culinary purposes. The game
grew more and more scanty, and, finally, none were to be seen but a few
miserable broken-down buffalo bulls, not worth killing. The snow lay
fifteen inches deep, and made the travelling grievously painful and
toilsome. At length they came to an immense plain, where no vestige of
timber was to be seen; nor a single quadruped to enliven the desolate
landscape. Here, then, their hearts failed them, and they held another
consultation. The width of the river, which was upwards of a mile, its
extreme shallowness, the frequency of quicksands, and various other
characteristics, had at length made them sensible of their errors with
respect to it, and they now came to the correct conclusion, that they
were on the banks of the Platte or Shallow River. What were they to do?
Pursue its course to the Missouri? To go on at this season of the year
seemed dangerous in the extreme. There was no prospect of obtaining
either food or firing. The country was destitute of trees, and though
there might be drift-wood along the river, it lay too deep beneath the
snow for them to find it.
The weather was threatening a change, and a snowstorm on these boundless
wastes might prove as fatal as a whirlwind of sand on an Arabian desert.
Pages:
549
550
551
552
553
554
555
556
557
558
559
560
561
562
563
564
565
566
567
568
569
570
571
572
573