Wild Sports In The Far West. Gerstaecker Frederick
wet through and through. I was anxious to find shelter, and was travelling a well-frequented road, when all at once it divided into three; I chose the most beaten, and pushed on through mud and mire, till I came to a wood, where all further traces of a road vanished, leaving me cold and wet in the forest. A fire was out of the question. I was not inclined to return, as the other roads might also lead to the forest; so I made my way through the shrubs and bushes, which could not make me more wet than I was already. I sank down from fatigue at times, but, after a few moments’ rest, roused myself to fresh efforts. At length, like a port to a ship in a storm, I saw a light through the branches. I hastened, as fast as my tired legs would carry me, in that direction, and soon came to a fence, and shortly afterwards to a farm-house. The farmer looked at first rather shyly at the dripping wet traveller, who requested entrance so late in the night; but the customary hospitality did not let him hesitate long, and a warm fire, with a quickly prepared supper, considerably refreshed my stiff and weary limbs.
I arrived at Cincinnati, the largest town in Ohio, on the river of that name, on the 26th of November, without further adventures, and found my friend the apothecary quite well; the hearty pleasure he expressed on seeing me was ample reward for the trouble I had taken to find him, and I passed some happy days in his society. I was much pleased with the fine town of Cincinnati, the “Queen of the West,” as the Americans call it. It is the centre of commerce of the West, and owes its rapid rise and prosperity to its connection by steamers and railroads with the seaports on the east coast, by canal with Lake Erie and the St. Lawrence, and by the Ohio and Mississippi with New Orleans. From Cincinnati I made short shooting excursions into Kentucky, though with little success, obtaining at most a few hares, and some of the small American partridges, with now and then a wild duck.
On the 6th of December I bid adieu to the agreeable town of Cincinnati, and on the same evening arrived at the border of the State, formed by the little river Miami: I slept there, and crossed over into Indiana on the following morning. Two miles further I reached the little town of Lawrencebourg, on the Ohio, and inquired the nearest way to St. Louis; a question which no one could answer, as they said they never knew of any one travelling hundreds of miles on foot, when they could go so easily by the steamers. At last, with much trouble, I learnt something of the direction, and set off on the journey. I got a good dinner at a farmer’s in return for a hare I had shot, and passed the night in a solitary house with some very worthy people.
The 8th of December was a fine day for a walk, and the evening was mild and agreeable. I was walking on at a good pace, when a farmer told me as I passed his house that I should find a mill about six or seven miles further on, where I could pass the night; the sun was already low in the heavens. I was in the midst of a thick wood when it became dark, and no mill to be seen; after some time it was somewhat lighter, and I had no fear of losing my way; moreover, the temperature was very agreeable, and in case of necessity, I should not have minded camping out, or sleeping in the forest. At length I saw a light at some distance through the trees, and the hopes of a warm bed and cup of hot coffee produced a good effect upon my European system, as yet unweaned from these luxuries. As I advanced, the lights became brighter and more numerous, and I did not know what to think. Was it a town, or an Indian camp before me? To put an end to the uncertainty I hurried on, particularly as my right road lay in that direction, and soon I stood before a burning forest, blazing up gloriously in the dark night, making the background still darker, and giving a ghost-like appearance to the trees on the right and left. This new scene was too wonderful and imposing for me to hurry past it; so I sat down on one of the fallen scorched trunks to enjoy the awfully sublime prospect. I may have remained sitting looking on for about half an hour, when, about twenty paces from me, a blazing oak fell with a heavy hollow sound, sending glowing charcoal, burning branches, and thousands of sparks in all directions. This was rather too near to be pleasant, so I turned to seek another road through the forest, which appeared now so much darker than before, on account of the brilliant light I had just been gazing on.
There seemed to be no end to the forest, and I began to think that the mill existed only in the good farmer’s imagination, when I heard a sound of rushing water, and, later, the lowing of a cow. I turned off in the direction of the sound, first taking the precaution to light a fire, that I might retrace my steps in case I lost my way. About half a mile brought me within sight of a dwelling; on coming nearer I discovered a milldam, and several cows standing about the fence saluted the new comer with a long-drawn friendly low. I joyfully shook the dust from my feet, and knocked at the low door: all was as silent as the grave. I knocked again – nothing moved – no voice called a welcome “come in.” After knocking three times, I was accustomed to open the door; I pushed this open in rather ill-humor, and found – a deserted house, with all as still as death. The stars shone through a hole in the roof, the chimney had fallen in. It causes a shudder to see a place deserted that you expect to find occupied by an industrious family: I closed the door, and sprang over the fence, leaving the building to its mournful solitude.
The fire I had lighted was nearly burnt out, but I found it again, and followed hastily my former path. After about another hour’s walk, I heard the bark of a dog, and confiding with a joyful heart in this sure sign of an approach to a human habitation, I stepped out quickly to the long-sought mill. Dogs bayed, the wheel clattered, a bright light shone through all the crevices of the loghouse, and everything showed that I should soon find shelter for the night; – and in a few minutes I was comfortably seated in the chimney corner.
My host was a kindly, good-humored man, had lived some years in Indiana, and was in good circumstances. After a delicious supper, he led me out of the house, and said, “I will show you a little chap, such as you never saw before in your life.” He kept his word. Under an inverted tub was a gray animal, about the size of a cat, but thicker in the body, with short legs, head and muzzle like a fox, or rather, more like a colossal rat, with ugly finger-like claws, and a tail about a foot long, devoid of hair. These creatures are constantly on the look-out for fowls, and make great havoc amongst the farmers’ poultry. The Americans, and sometimes the immigrant Germans, eat the flesh and esteem it a delicacy. The miller made no ceremony with his prisoner, and, after killing it, he cut off its claws and tail, skinned it, washed it, and prepared it for cooking, telling me it would serve for a delicate breakfast; but I could not make up my mind to eat an animal looking so much like a rat.
It rained hard all night, giving me a sorry prospect for my next day’s journey; nevertheless, I rose early, and took leave of the miller on purpose to escape his “delicate breakfast.”
The ground was soft and slippery, and it was not without reason that I had feared the swelling of the mountain streams; yet, trusting in my fortune, I went on in good spirits. About ten o’clock it began to rain again pretty sharply, and about noon I came to a rapid, roaring mountain stream, which rushed towards the Ohio, carrying some large trees along with it. Here it was necessary to reflect on what was best to be done, for though I could have swum across, it would have been extremely disagreeable, as I had no change of clothing, and the water was considerably colder than the air. After wandering for some miles up and down the river in search of means to cross it, night came on, and I was obliged to camp in the wood. After kindling a good fire, I went to sleep, lulled by the sound of the water, but waking up now and then, thinking I might receive a visit from some wild beast.
On the following morning I was early on my legs, and examined the river. Like all these mountain streams, it had risen rapidly, and fallen as quickly, having considerably abated in the course of the night. I had already resolved on trying the passage, when I saw two horsemen coming down the hill towards me. My difficulties were now at an end; one of them took me up behind, and I was landed all dry on the other side.
I kept on along the somewhat inclined road, sometimes slipping, sometimes sinking deep in mud, abusing all American roads and American weather, when, not very far from the little town of Versailles, I saw a man with a rifle coming down the hill towards me. He did not seem to be keeping a very steady course, and when we came nearer, I saw clearly that I had not made a great mistake in supposing him to be very drunk. When he came up to me, he winked with his glassy eyes, and shook me heartily by the hand: so far so good: but when he caught sight of a bottle I had slung by my side, he made a sudden grasp at it; however, I was too quick for him, and, like a bear defending her cubs, I wrenched it out of his hand, and then, with the most imperturbable look in the world, I said