CHAPTER SEVEN.
SOME OF THE SHADOWS OF A BUFFALO-HUNTER'S LIFE.
In order to give the women time to prepare some pemmican for them,Victor Ravenshaw and his companions agreed to spend another day with thehunters, and again, as a matter of course, followed them to the chase.
The same wild pursuit, accompanied by accidents, serious andserio-comic, took place, and success again attended the hunt, but theday did not end so happily, owing to an event which filled the camp withgreat anxiety. It happened at the close of the day.
The men were dropping into camp by twos and threes, wearied with hardwork, more or less covered with dust and blood, and laden with buffalotongues. Carts, also, were constantly coming in, filled with meat. Thewomen were busy cutting up and drying the meat in the sun, or over aslow fire, melting down fat, pounding the dried meat with stones, andmanufacturing bags out of the raw hides. Chatting and merry laughterresounded on all sides, for pemmican and bales of dried meat meantmoney, and they were coining it fast.
Towards sunset a band of several hunters appeared on the ridge in frontof the camp, and came careering gaily towards it. Baptiste Warder, themighty captain, led. Victor, Ian, Rollin, Winklemann, Flett, Mowat, andothers followed. They dashed into camp like a whirlwind, and sprangfrom their steeds, evidently well pleased with the success of the day.
"Had splendid sport," said Victor, with glittering eyes, to one of thesubordinate captains, who addressed him. "I killed ten animals myself,and Ian Macdonald missed fifteen; Winklemann dropped six, besidesdropping himself--"
"Vat is dat you zay?" demanded the big German, who was divesting himselfof some of the accoutrements of the chase.
"I say that you tumbled over six buffaloes and then tumbled overyourself," said Victor, laughing.
"Zat is not troo. It vas mine horse vat tombled. Of course I could notgo on riding upon noting after mine horse vas down."
At supper Herr Winklemann was quieter than usual, and rather cross. Hispropensity to tumble seemed to be a sore subject with him, both as tobody and mind. He made more than one cutting remark to Victor duringthe meal. After supper pipes were of course lighted, and conversationflowed freely. The only two who did not smoke were Ian Macdonald and,strange to say, Winklemann. That worthy German was a brilliantexception to his countrymen in the matter of tobacco. Victor, under theinfluence of example, was attempting in a quiet way to acquire the art,but with little success. He took to the pipe awkwardly.
"Vat vor you smok?" asked Winklemann, in a tone of contempt to Victor."It is clear zat you do not loike it."
"How d'you know that I don't like it?" asked Victor, with a blush and alaugh.
"Becowse your face do show it. Ve does not make faces at vat veloikes."
"That may be," retorted Victor, somewhat sharply. "Nevertheless, I haveearned a hunter's right to enjoy my pipe as well as the rest of you."
"Bon, bon, c'est vrai--true," cried Rollin, letting a huge cloud escapefrom his lips.
"Bah! doos killing buffalo give you right to do voolishness? Do not tryfor deceive yourself. You loike it not, bot you tink it makes you lookloike a _man_. Zat is vat you tink. Nevair vas you more mistouken. Ihave seen von leetle poy put on a pair of big boots and tink he lookvery grand, very loike him fadder; bot de boots only makes him looksmaller dan before, an' more foolish. So it is vid de pipe in de moutof de beardless poy."
Having thrown this apple of discord into the midst of the party,Winklemann shut his mouth firmly, as if waiting for a belligerent reply.As for Victor, he flushed again, partly from indignation at this attackon his liberty to do as he pleased, and partly from shame at having thereal motive of his heart so ruthlessly exposed. Victor was too honestand manly to deny the fact that he had not yet acquired a liking fortobacco, and admitted to himself that, in very truth, his object insmoking was to appear, as he imagined, more like a man, forgetful orignorant of the fact that men, (even smokers), regard beardlessconsumers of tobacco as poor imitative monkeys. He soon came to see thehabit in its true light, and gave it up, luckily, before he became itsslave. He would have been more than mortal, however, had he given in atonce. Continuing, therefore, to puff with obstinate vigour, he returnedto the charge.
"Smoking is no worse than drinking, Winklemann, and you know that you'refond of beer."
"Bon!" said Rollin, nodding approval.
"Vat then?" cried the German, who never declined a challenge of anykind, and who was fond of wordy war; "doos my sin joostify yours? Botyou is wrong. If smoking be not worse dan trinking, it is lessexcusable, for to trink is natural. I may apuse mine power an' trinkvat is pad for me, but den I may likewise trink vat is coot for me. Vitsmoking, no; you cannot smok vat is coot; it is all pad togeder. Vonchile is porn; vell, it do trink at vonce, vidout learning. Bot did anyvon ever hear of a chile vat cry for a pipe ven it was porn?"
The laugh with which this question was greeted was suddenly arrested bythe sound of a galloping steed. Every one sprang up and instinctivelyseized a weapon, for the clatter of hoofs had that unmistakablecharacter which indicates desperate urgency. It was low and dull atfirst, but became suddenly and sharply distinct as a rider rose over theridge to the left and bore madly down on the camp, lashing his horsewith furious persistency.
"It's young Valle," exclaimed Captain Baptiste, hastening to meet him.
Valle, who was a mere youth, had gone out with his father, LouisonValle, and the rest of the hunters in the morning. With glaring eyes,and scarce able to speak, he now reined in his trembling steed, and toldthe terrible news that his father had been killed by Sioux Indians. Aparty of half-breeds instantly mounted and dashed away over the plains,led by the poor boy on a fresh horse. On the way he told the tale morefully.
We have already said that when skinning the buffalo late in the evening,or at a distance from camp, the hunters ran considerable risk fromsavages, and were more or less wary in consequence. It was drawingtowards sunset when Louison Valle perceived that night would descendbefore he could secure the whole of the animals he had shot, and made uphis mind to the sacrifice. While busily engaged on a buffalo, he senthis son, on his own horse, to a neighbouring eminence, to watch andguard against surprise. Even while the father was giving directions tothe son, a party of Sioux, armed with bows and arrows, were creepingtowards him, snake-like, through the long grass. These suddenly rushedupon him, and he had barely time to shout to his son, "Make for thecamp!" when he fell, pierced by a shower of arrows. Of course, thesavages made off at once, well knowing that pursuit was certain. Themurderers were twelve in number. They made for the bush country.Meanwhile, the avengers reached the murdered man. The body was on itsback, just as it had fallen. Death must have relieved the unfortunatehunter before the scalp had been torn from his skull.
It was the first time that Victor Ravenshaw had looked upon a slain man.Many a time and oft had he read, with a thrill of interest, glowingdescriptions of fights in which isolated acts of courage, or heroism, ormagnanimity on the battle-field, coupled with but slight reference tothe killed and wounded, had blinded his perceptions as to the truenature of the game of war. Now his eyes beheld the contorted form ofone with whose manly aspect he had been familiar in the settlement,scarcely recognisable in its ghastliness, with blue lips, protrudingeyeballs, and a horrid mass of coagulated blood where the once curlinghair had been. Victor's ears were still ringing with the deadly shriekthat had burst from Valle's wife when she heard the dreadful news--justas he and his party galloped out of the camp. He knew also that thedead hunter left several young children to be pinched by dire poverty infuture years for want of their natural bread-winner. These and manysimilar thoughts crowded on his throbbing brain as he gazed at the newand terrible sight, and his eyes began for the first time to open totruths which ever after influenced his opinions while reading of theso-called triumphs of war.
"Vengeance!" was now the cry, as the hunters left the place in hotpursuit.
They knew
that the savages could not be far off, and that they wereunmounted, but they also knew that if they succeeded in gaining thelarger portions of thick bush with which some parts of that region werecovered it would be impossible to follow them up. Moreover, it wasgrowing dark, and there was no time to lose.
In a few minutes Ian and Victor were left alone with two men who hadagreed to look after the body of the murdered man.
Sadly and silently they assisted in laying the corpse in a cavity of therocks, and covering it over with large stones to protect it from wolves,and then prepared to leave the spot.
"Will they succeed, think you, in overtaking the murderers?" askedVictor of one of the men.
"Succeed? Ay, no fear of that!" replied the hunter, with a vindictivescowl. "It's not the first time some of them have been out after theSioux."
"We will ride back to camp, Vic," said Ian, rousing himself from areverie; "it is no part of our duty to assist in executing vengeance.If the camp were assailed we should indeed be bound to help defend it,but there are more than enough men out to hunt down these murderers. Ifa cart is not already on its way for the corpse we will send one.Come."
That night the avengers returned; they had overtaken and shot down eightof the Sioux,--the remaining four gained the bushes and escaped. Noneof themselves were hurt, but one had a narrow escape, an arrow havingpassed between his shirt and skin.
Next day Victor and his friends prepared to leave the hunters and resumethe chase of Petawanaquat, but they were arrested by one of thoseterrific thunderstorms which occasionally visit the prairies. They werealready mounted and on the point of taking leave, when the air darkenedsuddenly, the sky became overcast, lightning began to flash in vividgleams, and a crash of thunder seemed to rend the earth and heavens.
Presently Herr Winklemann, who meant to ride with the parting guests ashort way, and was also mounted, uttered a shout, and immediately horseand man rolled upon the plain. The man rose slowly, but the horse laystill--killed by lightning! By the same flash, apparently, anotherhorse was struck dead.
"Vell, you has tomble very often vid me," said the German, contemplatingthe fallen steed, "bot you vill tomble again no mor."
"Oui, he is mort," sighed Rollin, looking down.
After this first burst there was a considerable lull, but appearanceswere so gloomy that departure was delayed.
Soon after, the storm burst with a degree of violence that the oldesthunter said he had never before witnessed. Lightning, wind, rain,thunder, seemed to have selected the spot for a battle-ground. Althoughthe camp was pitched on comparatively high and rocky ground, the delugewas so great that in the course of ten minutes nearly everything wasafloat. (See Note 1.) The camp was literally swimming, and some of thesmaller children were with difficulty saved from drowning. So furiouswas the wind that the tents were either thrown down or blown to ribbons.During the storm three of the Indian tents, or lodges, were struck bylightning. In one of these a Canadian was killed; in another all theinmates--an Indian, his wife, two children, and two dogs--were killed,and a gun beside them was melted in several parts as though it had beenlead.
Then there fell a shower of hail, the stones of which were solid angularpieces of ice larger than a hen's egg, by which some of the people wereseverely wounded before they found shelter under the carts andoverturned tents.
It was a terrible display of the power of God, and yet, strange to say,so far is such a scene incapable of influencing man's fallen nature forgood, that occasions such as these, when the camp is in disorder, areoften taken advantage of by Indians to approach and steal the horses.
Being well aware of this propensity of the red man, Baptiste Warder andhis captains kept a sharp look-out. It was well they did so, for, afterthe storm, a formidable band of Sioux was discovered within a shortdistance of the camp.
Their wily chief was, however, equal to the occasion. He assumed therole of an injured man. He had come to remonstrate with thehalf-breeds, and charge them with cruelty.
"My warriors," said he, "killed only one of your people, and for thatone you murdered eight of my braves."
The half-breeds spoke the chief fairly, however, and entertained him andhis followers hospitably, so that the affair was amicably settled, andthey went away in peace. But dark eyes had met in deadly hatred duringthe conference.
The party of Indians who had joined the hunters with Victor and hiscomrades were Saulteaux, (Pronounced Sotoes), and the bitter enemies ofthe Sioux. Some time after the Sioux had taken their departure, a bandof about fifty of these Saulteaux left the camp stealthily, and pursueda detached party of their foes for about ten miles. They overtook themat a small stream. The unsuspecting Sioux prepared to swim over tothem, mistaking them at first for friends, but a volley which killedthree undeceived them. The fire was instantly returned and a smokeraised to alarm the country. The Saulteaux retreated, while the Sioux,gathering force, pursued, and it is probable that the whole of theassailants would have been scalped if night had not favoured them. Inthis raid seven Sioux were killed and three wounded. Of the Saulteauxthree were killed and four wounded.
Again the camp was visited by enraged and armed Sioux to the number of300, who challenged the Saulteaux to come forth man to man, and fight itout. The latter declined, and the half-breeds, many of whom wererelated by marriage to the Saulteaux, managed to patch up a hollow peacebetween them.
At last Victor, Ian, and Rollin got away, glad to have done both withbuffalo and savages. They now possessed three good horses, a supply offresh provisions, and plenty of ammunition. Thus provided they gallopedoff with light hearts over the boundless plains, and soon left the campof the hunters far behind them.
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Note 1. This is no picture of the fancy, but true in all its details.
The Red Man's Revenge: A Tale of The Red River Flood Page 8