Chapter 7

What! fifty of my followers, at a clap!
--Lear.

The day had now fairly opened on the seemingly interminable waste of
the prairie. The entrance of Obed at such a moment into the camp,
accompanied as it was by vociferous lamentations over his anticipated
loss, did not fail to rouse the drowsy family of the squatter. Ishmael
and his sons, together with the forbidding looking brother of his
wife, were all speedily afoot; and then, as the sun began to shed his
light on the place, they became gradually apprised of the extent of
their loss.

Ishmael looked round upon the motionless and heavily loaded vehicles
with his teeth firmly compressed, cast a glance at the amazed and
helpless group of children, which clustered around their sullen but
desponding mother, and walked out upon the open land, as if he found
the air of the encampment too confined. He was followed by several of
the men, who were attentive observers, watching the dark expression of
his eye as the index of their own future movements. The whole
proceeded in profound and moody silence to the summit of the nearest
swell, whence they could command an almost boundless view of the naked
plains. Here nothing was visible but a solitary buffaloe, that gleaned
a meagre subsistence from the decaying herbage, at no great distance,
and the ass of the physician, who profited by his freedom to enjoy a
meal richer than common.

"Yonder is one of the creatures left by the villains to mock us," said
Ishmael, glancing his eye towards the latter, "and that the meanest of
the stock. This is a hard country to make a crop in, boys; and yet
food must be found to fill many hungry mouths!"

"The rifle is better than the hoe, in such a place as this," returned
the eldest of his sons, kicking the hard and thirsty soil on which he
stood, with an air of contempt. "It is good for such as they who make
their dinner better on beggars' beans than on homminy. A crow would
shed tears if obliged by its errand to fly across the district."

"What say you, trapper?" returned the father, showing the slight
impression his powerful heel had made on the compact earth, and
laughing with frightful ferocity. "Is this the quality of land a man
would choose who never troubles the county clerk with title deeds?"

"There is richer soil in the bottoms," returned the old man calmly,
"and you have passed millions of acres to get to this dreary spot,
where he who loves to till the 'arth might have received bushels in
return for pints, and that too at the cost of no very grievous labour.
If you have come in search of land, you have journeyed hundreds of
miles too far, or as many leagues too little."