CHAPTER XI.
_Evening meditations and morning reflections--Buffaloes, badgers,antelopes, and accidents--An old bull and the wolves--"Madtails"--Henri floored, etc._
There is nothing that prepares one so well for the enjoyment of rest,both mental and physical, as a long-protracted period of excitementand anxiety, followed up by bodily fatigue. Excitement alone banishesrest; but, united with severe physical exertion, it prepares for it.At least, courteous reader, this is our experience; and certainly thiswas the experience of our three hunters as they lay on their backsbeneath the branches of a willow bush and gazed serenely up at thetwinkling stars two days after their escape from the Indian village.
They spoke little; they were too tired for that, also they were toocomfortable. Their respective suppers of fresh antelope steak, shotthat day, had just been disposed of. Their feet were directed towardsthe small fire on which the said steaks had been cooked, and whichstill threw a warm, ruddy glow over the encampment. Their blanketswere wrapped comfortably round them, and tucked in as only hunters andmothers know _how_ to tuck them in. Their respective pipes deliveredforth, at stated intervals, three richly yellow puffs of smoke, as ifa three-gun battery were playing upon the sky from that particularspot of earth. The horses were picketed and hobbled in a rich grassybottom close by, from which the quiet munch of their equine jawssounded pleasantly, for it told of healthy appetites, and promisedspeed on the morrow. The fear of being overtaken during the night wasnow past, and the faithful Crusoe, by virtue of sight, hearing, andsmell, guaranteed them against sudden attack during the hours ofslumber. A perfume of wild flowers mingled with the loved odours ofthe "weed," and the tinkle of a tiny rivulet fell sweetly on theirears. In short, the "Pale-faces" were supremely happy, and disposed tobe thankful for their recent deliverance and their present comforts.
"I wonder what the stars are," said Dick, languidly taking the pipeout of his mouth.
"Bits o' fire," suggested Joe.
"I tink dey are vorlds," muttered Henri, "an' have peepels in dem. Ihave hear men say dat."
A long silence followed, during which, no doubt, the star-gazers wereworking out various theories in their own minds.
"Wonder," said Dick again, "how far off they be."
"A mile or two, maybe," said Joe.
Henri was about to laugh sarcastically at this, but on furtherconsideration he thought it would be more comfortable not to, so helay still. In another minute he said,--
"Joe Blunt, you is ver' igrant. Don't you know dat de books say destars be hondreds, tousands--oh! milleryons of mile away to here, anddat dey is more bigger dan dis vorld?"
Joe snored lightly, and his pipe fell out of his mouth at this point,so the conversation dropped. Presently Dick asked in a low tone, "Isay, Henri, are ye asleep?"
"Oui," replied Henry faintly. "Don't speak, or you vill vaken me."
"Ah, Crusoe! you're not asleep, are you, pup?" No need to ask thatquestion. The instantaneous wag of that speaking tail and the glanceof that wakeful eye, as the dog lifted his head and laid his chin onDick's arm, showed that he had been listening to every word that wasspoken. We cannot say whether he understood it, but beyond all doubthe heard it. Crusoe never presumed to think of going to sleep untilhis master was as sound as a top, then he ventured to indulge in thatlight species of slumber which is familiarly known as "sleeping withone eye open." But, comparatively as well as figuratively speaking,Crusoe slept usually with one eye and a half open, and the other halfwas never very tightly shut.
Gradually Dick's pipe fell out of his mouth, an event which the dog,with an exercise of instinct almost, if not quite, amounting toreason, regarded as a signal for him to go off. The camp fire wentslowly out, the stars twinkled down at their reflections in the brook,and a deep breathing of wearied men was the only sound that rose inharmony with the purling stream.
Before the sun rose next morning, and while many of the brighter starswere still struggling for existence with the approaching day, Joe wasup and buckling on the saddle-bags, while he shouted to his unwillingcompanions to rise.
"If it depended on you," he said, "the Pawnees wouldn't be long aforethey got our scalps. Jump, ye dogs, an' lend a hand, will ye?"
A snore from Dick and a deep sigh from Henri was the answer to thispathetic appeal. It so happened, however, that Henri's pipe, infalling from his lips, had emptied the ashes just under his nose, sothat the sigh referred to drew a quantity thereof into his throat andalmost choked him. Nothing could have been a more effective awakener.He was up in a moment coughing vociferously. Most men have a tendencyto vent ill-humour on some one, and they generally do it on one whomthey deem to be worse than themselves. Henri, therefore, instead ofgrowling at Joe for rousing him, scolded Dick for not rising.
"Ha, mauvais dog! bad chien! vill you dare to look to me?"
Crusoe did look with amiable placidity, as though to say, "Howl away,old boy, I won't budge till Dick does."
With a mighty effort Giant Sleep was thrown off at last, and thehunters were once more on their journey, cantering lightly over thesoft turf.
"Ho, let's have a run!" cried Dick, unable to repress the feelingsaroused by the exhilarating morning air.
"Have a care, boy," cried Joe, as they stretched out at full gallop."Keep off the ridge; it's riddled wi' badger--Ha! I thought so."
At that moment Dick's horse put its foot into a badger-hole and turnedcompletely over, sending its rider through the air in a curve that anEast Indian acrobat would have envied. For a few seconds Dick lay flaton his back, then he jumped up and laughed, while his comrades hurriedup anxiously to his assistance.
"No bones broke?" inquired Joe.
Dick gave a hysterical gasp. "I--I think not."
"Let's have a look. No, nothin' to speak o', be good luck. Ye shouldniver go slap through a badger country like that, boy; always keep i'the bottoms, where the grass is short. Now then, up ye go. That's it!"
Dick remounted, though not with quite so elastic a spring as usual,and they pushed forward at a more reasonable pace.
Accidents of this kind are of common occurrence in the prairies. Somehorses, however, are so well trained that they look sharp out forthese holes, which are generally found to be most numerous on the highand dry grounds. But in spite of all the caution both of man and horsemany ugly falls take place, and sometimes bones are broken.
They had not gone far after this accident when an antelope leaped froma clump of willows, and made for a belt of woodland that lay along themargin of a stream not half-a-mile off.
"Hurrah!" cried Dick, forgetting his recent fall. "Come along,Crusoe." And away they went again full tilt, for the horse had notbeen injured by its somersault.
The antelope which Dick was thus wildly pursuing was of the samespecies as the one he had shot some time before--namely, theprong-horned antelope. These graceful creatures have long, slenderlimbs, delicately-formed heads, and large, beautiful eyes. The hornsare black, and rather short; they have no branches, like the antlersof the red-deer, but have a single projection on each horn, near thehead, and the extreme points of the horns curve suddenly inwards,forming the hook or prong from which the name of the animal isderived. Their colour is dark yellowish brown. They are so fleet thatnot one horse in a hundred can overtake them; and their sight andsense of smell are so acute that it would be next to impossible tokill them, were it not for the inordinate curiosity which we havebefore referred to. The Indians manage to attract these simple littlecreatures by merely lying down on their backs and kicking their heelsin the air, or by waving any white object on the point of an arrow,while the hunter keeps concealed by lying flat in the grass. By thesemeans a herd of antelopes may be induced to wheel round and round anobject in timid but intense surprise, gradually approaching until theycome near enough to enable the hunter to make sure of his mark. Thusthe animals, which of all others _ought_ to be the most difficult toslay, are, in consequence of their insatiable curiosity, more easilyshot than any other deer
of the plains.
May we not gently suggest to the reader for his or her considerationthat there are human antelopes, so to speak, whose case bears astriking resemblance to the prong-horn of the North American prairie?
Dick's horse was no match for the antelope, neither was Crusoe; sothey pulled up shortly and returned to their companions, to be laughedat.
"It's no manner o' use to wind yer horse, lad, after sich game.They're not much worth, an', if I mistake not, we'll be among thebuffalo soon. There's fresh tracks everywhere, and the herds arescattered now. Ye see, when they keep together in bands o' thousandsye don't so often fall in wi' them. But when they scatters about intwos, an' threes, an' sixes ye may shoot them every day as much as yeplease."
Several groups of buffalo had already been seen on the horizon, but asa red-deer had been shot in a belt of woodland the day before theydid not pursue them. The red-deer is very much larger than theprong-horned antelope, and is highly esteemed both for its fleshand its skin, which latter becomes almost like chamois leather whendressed. Notwithstanding this supply of food, the hunters could notresist the temptation to give chase to a herd of about nine buffaloesthat suddenly came into view as they overtopped an undulation in theplain.
"It's no use," cried Dick, "I _must_ go at them!"
Joe himself caught fire from the spirit of his young friend, socalling to Henri to come on and let the pack-horse remain to feed, hedashed away in pursuit. The buffaloes gave one stare of surprise, andthen fled as fast as possible. At first it seemed as if such huge,unwieldy carcasses could not run very fast; but in a few minutes theymanaged to get up a pace that put the horses to their mettle. Indeed,at first it seemed as if the hunters did not gain an inch; but bydegrees they closed with them, for buffaloes are not long winded.
On nearing the herd, the three men diverged from each other andselected their animals. Henri, being short-sighted, naturally singledout the largest; and the largest--also naturally--was a tough oldbull. Joe brought down a fat young cow at the first shot, and Dick wasequally fortunate. But he well-nigh shot Crusoe, who, just as he wasabout to fire, rushed in unexpectedly and sprang at the animal'sthroat, for which piece of recklessness he was ordered back to watchthe pack-horse.
Meanwhile, Henri, by dint of yelling, throwing his arms wildly about,and digging his heels into the sides of his long-legged horse,succeeded in coming close up with the bull, which once or twice turnedhis clumsy body half round and glared furiously at its pursuer withits small black eyes. Suddenly it stuck out its tail, stopped short,and turned full round. Henri stopped short also. Now, the sticking outof a buffalo's tail has a peculiar significance which it is well topoint out. It serves, in a sense, the same purpose to the hunter thatthe compass does to the mariner--it points out where to go and what todo. When galloping away in ordinary flight, the buffalo carries histail like ordinary cattle, which indicates that you may push on. Whenwounded, he lashes it from side to side, or carries it over his back,up in the air; this indicates, "Look out! haul off a bit!" But when hecarries it stiff and horizontal, with a _slight curve_ in the middleof it, it says plainly, "Keep back, or kill me as quick as you can,"for that is what Indians call the _mad tail_, and is a sign thatmischief is brewing.
Henri's bull displayed the mad tail just before turning, but he didn'tobserve it, and, accordingly, waited for the bull to move and show hisshoulder for a favourable shot. But instead of doing this he put hishead down, and, foaming with rage, went at him full tilt. The bighorse never stirred; it seemed to be petrified, Henri had just time tofire at the monster's neck, and the next moment was sprawling on hisback, with the horse rolling over four or five yards beyond him. Itwas a most effective tableau--Henri rubbing his shins and grinningwith pain, the horse gazing in affright as he rose trembling from theplain, and the buffalo bull looking on half stunned, and evidentlyvery much surprised at the result of his charge.
Fortunately, before he could repeat the experiment, Dick galloped upand put a ball through his heart.
Joe and his comrades felt a little ashamed of their exploit on thisoccasion, for there was no need to have killed three animals--theycould not have carried with them more than a small portion of one--andthey upbraided themselves several times during the operation ofcutting out the tongues and other choice portions of the two victims.As for the bull, he was almost totally useless, so they left him as agift to the wolves.
Now that they had come among the buffalo, wolves were often seensneaking about and licking their hungry jaws; but although theyapproached pretty near to the camp at nights, they did not give thehunters any concern. Even Crusoe became accustomed to them at last,and ceased to notice them. These creatures are very dangeroussometimes, however, and when hard pressed by hunger will even attackman. The day after this hunt the travellers came upon a wounded oldbuffalo which had evidently escaped from the Indians (for a couple ofarrows were sticking in its side), only to fall a prey to his deadlyenemies, the white wolves. These savage brutes hang on the skirts ofthe herds of buffaloes to attack and devour any one that may chance,from old age or from being wounded, to linger behind the rest. Thebuffalo is tough and fierce, however, and fights so desperately that,although surrounded by fifty or a hundred wolves, he keeps up theunequal combat for several days before he finally succumbs.
The old bull that our travellers discovered had evidently been longengaged with his ferocious adversaries, for his limbs and flesh weretorn in shreds in many places, and blood was streaming from his sides.Yet he had fought so gallantly that he had tossed and stamped to deathdozens of the enemy. There could not have been fewer than fifty wolvesround him; and they had just concluded another of many futile attackswhen the hunters came up, for they were ranged in a circle round theirhuge adversary--some lying down, some sitting on their haunches torest, and others sneaking about, lolling out their red tongues andlicking their chops as if impatient to renew the combat. The poorbuffalo was nearly spent, and it was clear that a few hours more wouldsee him torn to shreds and his bones picked clean.
"Ugh! de brutes," ejaculated Henri.
"They don't seem to mind us a bit," remarked Dick, as they rode up towithin pistol shot.
"It'll be merciful to give the old fellow a shot," said Joe. "Themvarmints are sure to finish him at last."
Joe raised his rifle as he spoke, and fired. The old bull gave hislast groan and fell, while the wolves, alarmed by the shot, fled inall directions; but they did not run far. They knew well that someportion, at least, of the carcass would fall to their share; so theysat down at various distances all round, to wait as patiently as theymight for the hunters to retire. Dick left the scene with a feelingof regret that the villanous wolves should have their feast so muchsooner than they expected.
Yet, after all, why should we call these wolves villanous? They didnothing wrong--nothing contrary to the laws of their peculiar nature.Nay, if we come to reason upon it, they rank higher in this matterthan man; for while the wolf does no violence to the laws of itsinstincts, man often deliberately silences the voice of conscience,and violates the laws of his own nature. But we will not insist on theterm, good reader, if you object strongly to it. We are willing toadmit that the wolves are _not_ villanous, but, _assuredly_, they areunlovable.
In the course of the afternoon the three horsemen reached a smallcreek, the banks of which were lined with a few stunted shrubs andtrees. Having eaten nothing since the night before, they dismountedhere to "feed," as Joe expressed it.
"Cur'ous thing," remarked Joe, as he struck a light by means of flint,steel, and tinder-box--"cur'ous thing that we're made to need sich alot o' grub. If we could only get on like the sarpints, now, wot canbreakfast on a rabbit, and then wait a month or two for dinner! Ain'tit cur'ous?"
Dick admitted that it was, and stooped to blow the fire into a blaze.
Here Henri uttered a cry of consternation, and stood speechless, withhis mouth open.
"What's the matter? what is't?" cried Dick and Joe, seizing theirrifles instincti
vely.
"De--grub--him--be--forgat!"
There was a look of blank horror, and then a burst of laughter fromDick Varley. "Well, well," cried he, "we've got lots o' tea an' sugar,an' some flour; we can git on wi' that till we shoot another buffalo,or a--ha!"
Dick observed a wild turkey stalking among the willows as he spoke. Itwas fully a hundred yards off, and only its head was seen above theleaves. This was a matter of little moment, however, for by aiming alittle lower he knew that he must hit the body. But Dick had driventhe nail too often to aim at its body; he aimed at the bird's eye, andcut its head off.
"Fetch it, Crusoe."
In three minutes it was at Dick's feet, and it is not too much to saythat in five minutes more it was in the pot.
As this unexpected supply made up for the loss of the meat whichHenri had forgotten at their last halting-place, their equanimity wasrestored; and while the meal was in preparation Dick shouldered hisrifle and went into the bush to try for another turkey. He did notget one, however, but he shot a couple of prairie-hens, which areexcellent eating. Moreover, he found a large quantity of wild grapesand plums. These were unfortunately not nearly ripe, but Dick resolvedto try his hand at a new dish, so he stuffed the breast of his coatfull of them.
After the pot was emptied, Dick washed it out, and put a little cleanwater in it. Then he poured some flour in, and stirred it well. Whilethis was heating, he squeezed the sour grapes and plums into what Joecalled a "mush," mixed it with a spoonful of sugar, and emptied itinto the pot. He also skimmed a quantity of the fat from the remainsof the turkey soup and added that to the mess, which he stirred withearnest diligence till it boiled down into a sort of thick porridge.
"D'ye think it'll be good?" asked Joe gravely; "I've me doubts of it."
"We'll see.--Hold the tin dish, Henri."
"Take care of de fingers. Ha! it looks magnifique--superb!"
The first spoonful produced an expression on Henri's face that needednot to be interpreted. It was as sour as vinegar.
"Ye'll ha' to eat it yerself, Dick, lad," cried Joe, throwing down hisspoon, and spitting out the unsavoury mess.
"Nonsense," cried Dick, bolting two or three mouthfuls, and trying tolook as if he liked it. "Try again; it's not so bad as you think."
"Ho-o-o-o-o!" cried Henri, after the second mouthful. "Tis vinegre.All de sugare in de pack would not make more sweeter one bite of it."
Dick was obliged to confess the dish a failure, so it was thrown outafter having been offered to Crusoe, who gave it one sniff and turnedaway in silence. Then they mounted and resumed their journey.
At this place mosquitoes and horse-flies troubled our hunters andtheir steeds a good deal. The latter especially were very annoying tothe poor horses. They bit them so much that the blood at last cametrickling down their sides. They were troubled also, once or twice, bycockchafers and locusts, which annoyed them, not indeed by biting,but by flying blindly against their faces, and often-narrowly missedhitting them in the eyes. Once particularly they were so bad thatHenri in his wrath opened his lips to pronounce a malediction on thewhole race, when a cockchafer flew straight into his mouth, and, touse his own forcible expression, "nearly knocked him off de hoss." Butthese were minor evils, and scarcely cost the hunters a thought.
The Dog Crusoe and His Master: A Story of Adventure in the Western Prairies Page 12