When I arrived at Buffalo, I had travelled twenty-four miles, without meeting any habitation, excepting a very few scattering log huts. Some of these were destitute of provisions; and at others of them a piece of bread, and a drink of water cost me two York shillings. Not far from this place, my dogs, knowing no law but that of nature, and having forgotten my lecture to them upon theft, helped themselves to the first repast presented, leaving their master to foot their bills. According to the phraseology of our Grand Juries, they very modestly "took, stole, and carried away" a piece of beef of the weight of three pounds, with an intention to convert the same to their own use. Hue and cry was immediately made, not by the Hundred, nor by the Posse Commitatus, but by the power of the kitchen. Notwithstanding carelessness, on the part of Mrs. Vixen, was the cause of this disastrous event; yet numerous apologies were tendered to her, and {85} her lord, for the purpose of appeasing their vindictive spirit: the thieves, at the same time, were dividing the spoil behind some neighbouring snow-bank. The value of this sacrifice to canine hunger, was of no consequence to the traveller; but in this rare instance, money could not purchase pardon; and my dogs were obliged to remain at some out-post until I renewed my march.
On Buffalo creek, which I have already mentioned and which is connected with Lake Erie, there is an Indian village inhabited by the Senecas. This tribe have a numerous settlement on the Genessee river, and several others in the north-westerly part of Pennsylvania; but their numbers are rapidly decreasing, and they are probably the most worthless tribe in North America.[41]*
