Page:How Marcus Whitman Saved Oregon.djvu/332

 but only an honest, little, cold-footed tree-toad, trying to get warmed up. But he frightened me as badly as the biggest rattler on the St. Mary's 298 could, and I helped him to make a hop that beat the record of Mark Twain's jumping-frog in his best days.

But life on the plains was not a continued succession of discomforts. The dyspeptic could well afford to make such a journey to gain the appetite and the good digestion. The absence of annoying insect life during the night, and the pure, invigorating air, makes sleep refreshing and health-giving. For a month at a time we have lain down to sleep, looking up at the stars, without the fear of catching cold, or feeling a drop of dew. There are long dreary reaches of plains to pass that are wearisome to the eye and the body, but the mountain scenery is nowhere more picturesquely beautiful.

At that time the sportsman could have a surfeit in all kinds of game, by branching off from the lines of travel and taking the chances of losing his scalp. Herds of antelope were seen every day feeding in the valleys, while farther away there were buffalo by the hundred thousand. The great butchery of these noble animals had then but fairly begun. To-day, there still live but three small herds. Our company did not call it sport to kill buffalo for amusement. It was not sport, but butchery. A man could ride up