CHAPTER TWENTY SIX.
ALONE IN THE PLAINS.
Where were the hundreds of buffalo that had been thundering over theplain?
Where was Joses?
Where were the Indians?
These were the questions Bart asked as he gazed round him in dismay.For the excitement of his gallop was over now, and, though they wantedmeat so badly, he felt half sorry that he had shot the poor beast thatlay stiffening by his side for he had leaped down, and had, as if byinstinct, taken hold of Black Boy's rein, lest he should suddenly takeit into his head to gallop off and leave his master in the solitude byhimself.
For a few minutes there was something novel and strange in the sensationof being the only human being in that vast circle whose circumferencewas the horizon, seen from his own centre.
Then it began to be astonishing, and Bart wondered why he could not seeeither hunters or buffaloes.
Lastly, it began to be painful, and to be mingled with a curioussensation of dread. He realised that he was alone in that vast plain--that he had galloped on for a long while without noticing in whichdirection he had gone, and then, half-stunned and wondering as he fullyrealised the fact that he was lost, he mounted his horse and satthinking.
He did not think much, for there was a singular, stupefied feeling inhis head for a time. But this passed off, and was succeeded by abewildering rush of thought--what was to become of him if he were lefthere like this--alone--without a friend--hopeless of being found?
This wild race of fancies was horrible while it endured, and Bartpressed the cold barrel of his rifle to his forehead in the hope offinding relief, but it gave none.
The relief came from his own effort as he tried to pull himselftogether, laughing at his own cowardice, and ridiculing his fears.
"What a pretty sort of a hunter I shall make!" he said aloud, "to beafraid of being left alone for a few minutes in broad daylight, with thesun shining down upon my head, and plenty of beef to eat if I like tolight myself a fire."
It was ridiculous, he told himself, and that he ought to feel ashamed;for he was ignorant of the fact that even old plainsmen and practisedhunters may lose their nerve at such a time, and suffer so from thehorror of believing themselves lost that some even become insane.
Fortunately, perhaps, Bart did not know this, and he bantered himselfuntil he grew cooler, when he began to calculate on what was the properthing to do.
"Let me see," he said; "they are sure to begin looking for me as soon asI am missed. What shall I do? Fire my rifle--make a fire--ride off totry and find them?"
He sat upon his horse thinking.
If he fired his rifle or made a fire, he might bring down Indians uponhim, and that would be worse than being lost, so he determined to waitpatiently until he was able to see some of his party; and no sooner hadhe come to this determination than he cheered up, for he recollecteddirectly that the Beaver, or some one or other of his men, would be sureto find him by his trail, even though it had been amongst the tramplinghoof-marks of the bison. The prints of a well-shod horse would beunmistakable, and with this thought he grew more patient, and waited on.
It was towards evening, though, before he had the reward of his patiencein seeing the figure of a mounted Indian in the distance; and even thenit gave no comfort, for he felt sure that it might be an enemy, for itappeared to be in the very opposite direction from that which he hadcome.
Bart's first idea was to go off at a gallop, only he did not know whereto go, and after all, this might be a friend.
Then another appeared, and another; and dismounting, and turning hishorse and the bison into bulwarks, Bart stood with his rifle resting,ready for a shot, should these Indians prove to be enemies, andpatiently waited them as they came on.
This they did so quickly and full of confidence that there was soon nodoubt as to who they were, and Bart at last mounted again, and rodeforward to meet them.
The Indians came on, waving their rifles above their heads, and nosooner did they catch sight of the prize the lad had shot than they gavea yell of delight; and then, forgetting their customary stolidity, theybegan to chatter to him volubly in their own tongue, as they flungthemselves from their horses and began to skin the bison as it lay.
Bart could not help thinking how thoroughly at home these men seemed inthe wilds. A short time before he had been in misery and despairbecause he felt that he was lost. Here were these Indians perfectly attheir ease, and ready to set to work and prepare for a stay if needs be,for nothing troubled them--the immensity and solitude had no terrors fortheir untutored minds.
They had not been at work above an hour before a couple more Indianscame into sight, and soon after, to his great delight, Bart recognisedJoses and the Beaver coming slowly over a ridge in the distance, and hecantered off to meet them at once.
"Thought we lost you, Master Bart," cried Joses, with a grim smile."Well, how many bufflers did you shoot?"
"Only one," replied Bart, "but it was a very big fellow."
"Calf?" asked Joses, laughing.
"No; that great bull that came over the ridge."
"You don't mean to say you ran him down, lad, and shot him, do you?"cried Joses, excitedly.
"There he lies, and the Indians are cutting him up," said Bart quietly.
Joses pressed his horse's sides with his heels, and went off at a gallopto inspect Bart's prize, coming back in a few minutes smiling all overhis face.
"He's a fine one, my lad. He's a fine one, Master Bart--finest shotto-day. I tell you what, my lad, if I'd shot that great bull I shouldhave thought myself a lucky man."
As he spoke he pointed to the spot, and the Beaver cantered off to havehis look, and he now came back ready to nod and say a few commendatorywords to the young hunter, whom they considered to have well won hisspurs.
The result of this first encounter with the bison was that nine wereslain, and for many hours to come the party were busy cutting up themeat into strips, which were hung in the sun to dry.
Then four of the Indians went slowly off towards the miners' camp at themountain, their horses laden with the strips of meat, their instructionsbeing to come back with a couple of waggons, which Joses believed theywould be able to fill next day.
"How far do you think we are from the camp?" asked Bart.
"'Bout fifteen miles or so, no more," replied Joses. "You see the runafter the bison led us down towards it, so that there isn't so far togo."
"Why, I fancied that we were miles upon miles away," cried Bart;"regularly lost in the wilderness."
"Instead of being close at home, eh, lad? Well, we shall have to campsomewhere out here to-night, so we may as well pick out a good place."
"But where are the other Indians?" asked Bart.
"Cutting up the buffler we killed," replied Joses.
"Faraway?"
"Oh, no; mile or so. We've done pretty well, my lad, for the first day,only we want such a lot to fill so many mouths."
A suitable place was selected for the camp, down in a well-shelteredhollow, where a fire was lit, and some bison-meat placed upon sticks toroast. The missing Indians seemed to be attracted by the odour, forjust as it was done they all came straight up to camp ready to make ahearty meal, in which their white companions were in no wise behindhand.
"Not bad stuff," said Joses, after a long space, during which he hadbeen too busy to speak.
"I never ate anything so delicious," replied Bart, who, upon his side,was beginning to feel as if he had had enough.
"Ah, there's worse things than roast buffler hump," said Joses; "andnow, my lad, if I was you I'd take as big and as long a sleep as Icould, for we must be off again before daylight after the herd."
"Shall we catch up to them again, Joses?" asked Bart.
"Catch up to 'em? why, of course, they haven't gone far."
A quarter of an hour later Bart was fast asleep, dreaming that he washunting a bull bison ten times as big as the one he had that afternoonshot, and tha
t after hunting it for hours it suddenly turned round andbegan to hunt him, till he became so tired that he lay down and went offfast asleep, when, to his great disgust, when he was so weary, Josescame and began to shake him by the shoulder, saying:
"Come, Master Bart, lad, wake up. The buffer's been coming close in tocamp during the night."
The Silver Canyon: A Tale of the Western Plains Page 26