camp, and by his appearance show that some
accident had happened to me. I had a pocketbook and tore out a leaf and
wrote--"Lying on the ground with both legs broken, to the eastward of
the camp," and signed it, "Tom Rushforth."

I endeavoured to reach one of my stirrups to which I intended to fasten
the paper and then to set my horse at liberty. Before doing so,
however, I thought I would examine my legs and ascertain if they were
really broken. On feeling the bones, to my infinite satisfaction I
could discover no fracture, though they pained me greatly. I
accordingly tried and succeeded in getting up; and, although I do not
think I could have walked a yard, I managed to scramble into my saddle
with my gun. I then, having thrown down a handkerchief to mark the cow
I had shot as my own put my horse's head, as I supposed, in the
direction of the camp.

I was anxious to get back as soon as possible, but the pain of riding
fast was greater than I could bear, and I was compelled to make my horse
walk at a pace not suited to his fancy.

I could still see the buffalo scampering over the prairie, moving off to
the southward, and I concluded that they would be miles away before the
end of the day. I looked round for any friends, but not a horseman
could I discover.

The weather had been bright during the early part of the day, but clouds
were now drifting rapidly over the sky, and I continued riding on
towards the north-west until the sun became totally obscured. I still
believed that I could direct my course right. To trot was unbearable,
but I thought that I might venture on a gallop; the movement, however,
caused me so much pain that I was compelled again to pull up. In rain
my eyes ranged over the wide extent of the prairie, in search of the
wigwams of our Indian friends. For some time I guided myself by the
wind, but that also shifted and fell light, so that I was unable to
steer by it. I could distinguish the trail of the buffalo, by the tall
grass which they had trampled down; but that did not serve to guide me,
for it seemed to bend in all directions, though I have no doubt it would
have served an Indian perfectly. I arrived at length at the unpleasant
conclusion, that I had lost myself; still, could I but get a gleam of
sunshine, or see the distant hills, I might, I hoped, ascertain what
direction to take.

Had I not been so severely injured, I should not have cared so much; for
having just before take