The Pioneer Boys of the Ohio; or, Clearing the Wilderness

by St. George Rathborne

  CHAPTER IX

  ALONG THE BUFFALO TRAIL

  SANDY jumped according to orders. With that furious-looking beastcoming on the trot, with lowered, massive head, and uttering savagebellows as he advanced, no boy would have hesitated in seeking safety.

  "SLIPPING ADROITLY AROUND THE BEECH AS FAST AS THEBUFFALO COULD CHASE AFTER HIM."]

  Bob swung himself into the lower branches of the tree under which hechanced to be at the time the attack came. On the other hand, Sandydid not understand it in that light. He expected to use the trunk of abeech as a shield, behind which he might find shelter from the bisonbull.

  Apparently the animal had only sighted Sandy, since he made direct forthe tree back of which the boy crouched.

  "Look out for him, Sandy!" shouted the occupant of the tree, as hekicked his moccasined feet, and in other ways tried to attract tohimself the attention of the infuriated beast.

  In this he did not seem to be successful, for the charging bull keptstraight on, and came up against the trunk of Sandy's refuge with athump that staggered him not a little.

  "You see what you get!" called the boy, tauntingly, hovering behind thetree, and ready to glide around it at the first sign of pursuit.

  "Take care, he's going to chase after you! Keep close to the tree, andbe sure you don't slip!" called Bob; who, his hands trembling withexcitement, was trying to get a charge of powder into the barrel of hismusket, no easy task while he sat perched on a limb.

  Meanwhile there was a scene of action close by. Sandy showed a cleanpair of heels to the enemy, slipping adroitly around the beech as fastas the buffalo could chase after him. If he kept his footing all wouldbe well; but, should he ever trip on one of the roots that croppedout of the ground, perhaps the ugly horns of the beast would gore himbefore he could roll out of reach.

  So, while he continued to load his gun, Bob kept up a succession ofoutcries, intended to encourage his brother, and at the same timedisconcert the stubborn bison.

  "Keep moving, Sandy! Don't let him get a swipe at you, boy! Oh! I camenear dropping that bullet then. Will I ever get this gun loaded? Becareful, lad! That time you were nearly down. He is tiring, Sandy; butunless I make haste something dreadful may happen. I must finish thisjob. Look out again, he's meaning to turn on you suddenly. There! justwhat I feared; but you were too quick for him!"

  By this time the boy who was spinning around the tree so rapidly hadbegun to realize that it was not so much fun, after all, this beingpursued by a monster with wicked horns, and the power of a tornado inhis thick-set neck. At times he could almost feel the hot breath ofthe animal upon his neck, which showed how very close the buffalo mustbe. Had Sandy chanced to be alone his condition must have been doublydesperate. As it was, his only hope seemed to lie in the ability of hisbrother to get his gun loaded in time to put an end to the crazy bison.

  "Keep it up just ten seconds longer, Sandy, and I'll be ready! Thepriming, boy, that's all! Now look out, here goes!"

  As Bob said this he discharged his musket, after securing a fair aim,as the animal's flank came around in full view.

  "Hurrah! he's down again!" gasped poor Sandy with almost his lastbreath, for he seemed on the verge of exhaustion from the whirl aroundthat tree.

  "Climb up out of reach, quick!" shouted Bob, jumping down so as toattract the attention of the bull toward himself should the animalmanage to stagger to his legs again, for he saw his brother wasexhausted and would now prove an easy victim.

  But Sandy was on the ground, and he saw something that his brother didnot. The last bullet had reached a vital spot, and already the biganimal was quivering in the last expiring throes.

  "Get your gun, and load up as fast as you can!" said Bob, himselfsuiting the action to the word.

  "But see, he is dead!" expostulated the other, pointing to the buffalo,which by now had ceased to struggle and lay quite still.

  "Never mind. Load the gun as fast as you can!" repeated Bob. "A hunterwith an empty shooting-iron is an easy mark for every prowling redskin.Surely Pat has said that to us many times. And we now know there areIndians around here."

  Thus urged, the younger boy hastened to comply.

  "Just to think," he could not help saying, when this important businesshad been attended to, and both of the guns were placed in shape forfurther service, "we've actually brought down a big buffalo. And it isthe first one shot by any of our party. But all the honor is yours,Bob. If it had been left to me perhaps the old sinner might have gotme. I was getting blown to a certainty."

  "But we can share the honor, Sandy; for if you had not kept runninground and round as you did, how else could I have shot him?"

  That was Bob's generous way, and Sandy knew it would be utterly uselesstrying to escape taking half the credit.

  "You watch while I use the knife and take off the skin," Bob went on;for he knew that the hide, if properly cured, would make a valuablerobe, to insure warmth when the winter snows came again. "And watch outfor Indians," he added suggestively.

  These boys had served their apprenticeship at trapping animals, andthere was little in the science of removing and preserving pelts thatthey did not know. So now, while Bob had never before seen a deadbuffalo, and only had a glimpse of a live one close at hand, he knewjust how to go to work.

  "Plenty of good meat here for the whole camp," remarked Sandy, withkindling eyes, as he saw the large buffalo hams exposed by the removalof the hide.

  "Yes, and they say it is fine. If it can beat that bear we shot earlylast winter, before all its fat was gone, I'll be glad we ran acrosshim," Bob remarked, as he now prepared to cut the carcass up, so thatthe best portions might be reserved.

  "I wonder when the folks will be along?" said the younger lad, allowinghis gaze to travel between the thick trees in that quarter where itmight be expected the pack-horses would sooner or later appear.

  "Listen!" remarked Bob just then, raising his head, "I thought I hearda shout far away."

  Sandy began to look anxious.

  "Oh! I hope nothing has gone wrong," he observed.

  "Nonsense!" expostulated the other, "what could have happened? Justbecause we saw an Indian, and he tried to put an arrow in one of us,is no sign of danger to the camp. The only thing that bothers me isthat perhaps they have halted far back there for the night. In thatevent, see where we would have to carry all this meat."

  "We might hang it up out of reach of wolves, and bring some of the men,with a horse, to tote it in," suggested Sandy.

  "That is so, and a clever idea, too. Wait and see. Perhaps they maycome on, and pass near us here," Bob remarked, "for we are close to thetrail, which I am sure lies over by that leaning sycamore tree."

  So they sat down to wait and listen for more signs.

  "This certainly beats our woods back in Virginia," remarked Bob, as helooked around at the great primeval forest that surrounded them, thetrees of tremendous girth and beginning to show a new crop of brightgreen leaves.

  "Yes," responded his brother, reflectively, "it is indeed a wonderfulcountry, and, from the signs, just overflowing with game. There wasthat salt-lick we ran across two days ago; why, from the marks,thousands of deer and buffalo must visit it every year. That verynight we shot three fine stags and a doe, you remember."

  "Yes, and I was sorry we killed that last one, for she had a little,spotted fawn running at her heels, and of course it will die, beingleft uncared for."

  Bob was a true sportsman. He loved to hunt game, but something withinalways prevented him from killing more than he could use. And that isever the mark of one who truly loves Nature. Believing that these goodthings are provided by an all-wise Creator for the enjoyment of man,they look on it as a sin to waste any such bounties.

  "There, that was a shout, and close by, too. I think it must have beenDarby calling to that lazy beast of his, which wants to lie down inevery little stream we have to ford. Yes, there he breaks out again,"said Sandy.

  "And from the row that is going on, and
the laughing, I fear the beasthas done what he's been threatening to do this long while, and rolledover in a brook. But I can see them now, over yonder," said Bob,pointing.

  Presently the straggling line of pack-horses came along. When the headman saw what a fine supply of meat the two young Nimrods had awaitingthem, he gave the word to pitch camp.

  "The afternoon is going, and we could hardly find a better spot thanright here," he observed; at which there was a bustle all around, forcamp always meant a period of ease and rest from the weary trampingover rough ground.

  "But what is that you are carrying, Sandy?" demanded David Armstrong,as he came along with his two horses, his wife and Kate trampingat their side with the steadiness of squaws, for they had becomeaccustomed to such vigorous and healthy labor.

  "An Indian's bow and arrow which we picked up after Bob shot andwounded the owner, who was trying to get me," the boy quickly replied.

  At the word "Indian" others came to stare at the weapon with curiosity,not unmixed with alarm, for they knew only too well that now they hadburned their bridges behind them, for there could be no going back, andevery day carried them further and further into the debatable countryof the Shawanees, which later on would be known as the "dark and bloodyground."