Lost On The Prairie

While in Washington a short time ago the Rev. John Eastman of South Dakota, a member of the Mewakautan Sioux, related a fearful experience he once had on the prairie, lost and nearly frozen to death.

"It was a Saturday night," said Rev. Mr. Eastman, "and I had just finished my dinner and was sitting by a good fire thinking over my sermon for the next day when it occurred to me that I ought to go out to the barn and see to my horse. I had driven twenty miles that day and was tired when I put him out and had not blanketed him. Fortunately I put on an old overcoat, but without a lantern I started out.

"The night was black, and a blizzard was on. The wind was in my face, and the fine hail came like shot from a gun. It fairly bit my cheeks. As I crossed the garden I turned to have the wind at my back and catch may breath. I saw the light in the house glowing faintly through the sleet. It was the light or the want of it that gave me the suspicion I had lost my way. I had turned around and walked backward awhile with my head bent and not looking for the house. Then when I did look I couldn't see the light. I knew I had gone far enough to reach the barn if I was ever to get there, and I realized I had gone wrong in some way.

"I began to arouse myself and look for the barn. I had gone there so many times I would have said I could get there with my eyes shut and my feet and hands tied. But couldn't see it and soon began to learn that I couldn't get near it by zigzagging back and forth. I don't know how long I cruised around as a dog would search a trail. It probably was only a few minutes, but it seemed an hour. It was the longest part of the night's experiences. I was slow to confess to myself that keen as I believed I was in prairie craft I was really lost and could not help myself even a little bit. I suppose I went around in a circle, but there was no proof to my mind of the fact.

"The place was the prairie at Flandreau, where I now live. It is as level as this floor and is now well settled, but then it was miles to any other house. Every inch of the prairie was like every other inch. When I knew I was lost, I made up my mind to be as long as possible in freezing to death. I gave up trying to find the barn and just walked without thinking where I was going. I kept saying, 'Walk, walk, walk!'

"Of course I went with the wind a good deal. But I realized I ought not to, and as a moral duty I religiously faced it. This fancy saved my life. I kept fighting something all night. I pounded myself and called myself a fool a thousand times. I even kicked myself now and then.

"Then I began to feel sleepy. It grew on me, and I thought I would lie down and rest, for I was very tired. But I rebelled against this as a piece of folly. I kicked myself and again called myself a fool. Then the first I knew I was down on my hands and knees In the snow. I guess I did not realize my danger. I remember I noticed the snow drifting around me. 'I had my back to the wind. I had found horses and cattle frozen to death standIng with their backs humped up against the wind. You see, I have big lungs ' and am strongly built. I kept breathing good and strong all the time. I clinched my hands and kept saying I to myself, 'Live, live, live!' It was a sort of will power. I suffered fearfully all the time with the cold. My clothes seemed like so much paper rustling on my stony limbs. The snow got deeper.

"The snow kept creeping on up over my back, and I stayed as still as I could, so as to let it roof me over. It was inky dark when it finally covered me entirely, and I was where it would be days before they would find me. Then I wondered how long I should lie there, and I thought of the wolves that might come when the snow had thawed a little and scratch down to me and begin to gnaw my frozen flesh.

"In this way my mind went wandering on from one idea to another. I succeeded in keeping myself alive by thinking. I felt better after awhile. I did not know it, but it was warmer there under the snow. My breath melted a little hole up through the drift. The air was cold, but it was the sweetest relief in the world that it was still and not cutting like a million whiplashes. The snow around me got so I could press it back, and it would pack and stay, so I had a little room to move. I was still fearfully cold, but in comparison with the suffering earlier in the night I was warm as toast.

"It was about this time I noticed I could see a button right under my eye on my coat.  The night had passed, and it was daybreak. My mind took the fact in slowly. I did not dare to get up or move. I deliberated whether I should try to get up. I almost decided not to do it. And then with a snort and a grunt I was on my feet and shaking off the snow. I shall never forget the agony of that moment. If there was a muscle in my body that did not fairly shriek in a protest of pain, it must have been in parts that were frozen. But I took a step forward and then tottered along and gradually learned again to walk.

"The sky was clear, a few stars shone faintly in the western horizon, the wind had gone down. In the half light I could see what I thought was a house some distance away. I struggled on painfully toward it, rubbing snow on my face as I went to take out the frost. As I drew near the house I saw some one coming from the opposite direction. It was my wife. She and the boys had been up all night and with the first light of morning had gone out to find me. I had been lost within eighty rods of my house. My wife fired the gun and called the boys back. They were all very glad to see me alive. Everything at the barn was all right. I preached that day, although I was very stiff and sore."