The Buffalo Runners: A Tale of the Red River Plains

by R. M. Ballantyne

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN.

  ADVENTURES OF ARCHIE AND THE SEAMAN.

  Meanwhile the buffalo-hunt progressed favourably, and the slaughter ofanimals was considerable.

  But there were two members of that hunt whose proceedings were not inexact accord with the habits and laws of the chase, as usually conductedon the Red River plains. These were the seaman Jenkins and ArchieSinclair.

  A mutual attachment having sprung up between these two, they hadarranged to keep together during the chase; and when the signal forattack was given by Dechamp, as before related, they had "set sail,"according to Jenkins, fairly well with the rest. But they had not gonemore than a few hundred yards when the boy observed that his nauticalfriend was hauling at both reins furiously, as if desirous of stoppinghis horse. Having a gun in one hand he found the operation difficult.

  Archie therefore reined in a little.

  "Bad luck to it!" growled Jenkins, as his young friend drew near, "thejaws o' this craft seem to be made o' cast-iron, but I'll bring him toif I should haul my arms out o' the sockets. Heave-to, my lad! Maybehe'll be willin' to follow a good example."

  Archie pulled up, and, as the seaman had hoped, the hard-mouthed steedstopped, while the maddened buffalo and the almost as much maddenedhunters went thundering on, and were soon far ahead of them.

  "What's wrong, Jenkins?" asked Archie, on seeing the sailor dismount.

  "Not much, lad; only I want to take a haul at the main brace. Here,hold my gun a bit, like a good chap; the saddle, you see, ain't allright, an' if it was to slew round, you know, I'd be overboard in ajiffy. There, that's all right. Now, we'll up anchor, an' off again.I know now that the right way to git on board is by the port side. WhenI started from Red River I was goin' to climb up on the starboard side,but Dan Davidson kep' me right--though he had a good laugh at me. Allright now. Hand me the gun."

  "Do you mean to say, Jenkins, that you never got on a horse till youcame to Red River?" asked Archie, with a laugh, as they galloped off inpursuit of the hunters, who were almost out of sight by that time.

  "Well, you've no occasion to laugh, lad," returned the seaman. "I'vebin at sea ever since I was a small shaver, scarce half as long as ahandspike, so I ain't had many opportunities, d'ee see, for we don'thave cavalry at sea, as a rule--always exceptin' the horse marines.

  "Then I'm afraid you'll find runnin' the buffalo somewhat difficult,"returned the boy. "Not that I know anything about it myself, for thisis the first time I've been out; an' even now Dan won't let me use agun; but I've often heard the men talkin' about it! an' some o' themhave complained that they have found it uncommon difficult to load whenat full gallop--specially when the horse is hard in the mouth."

  "I make no manner o' doubt you're right, lad, but I've got my sea-legson now, so to speak; leastwise I've got used to ridin' in the trip outhere, as well as used to steerin' wi' the tiller-ropes in front, whichseems to me right in the teeth o' natur', though I couldn't see how itcould well be otherwise. But I confess that my chief difficulty is theordnance, for it interferes a good deal wi' the steerin'.Hows'ever--`never ventur' never win,' you know. I never expected totake up a noo purfession without some trouble."

  As he spoke, the seaman's horse--a large brown chestnut--put its foot ina hole, and plunged forward with great violence, barely escaping a fall.

  "Hold on!" shouted Archie in alarm.

  "Hold on it is!" sang out the sailor in reply.

  And hold on it was, for he had the chestnut round the neck with botharms. Indeed he was sitting, or lying, on its neck altogether.

  "It ain't an easy job," he gasped, while he struggled to regain thesaddle, "when a fellow gets hove on to the bowsprit this way, to gitfairly back on the main-deck again. But a Jenkins never was beaten infair fight. That's all right. Now then, Archie, you're an obleegin'cove. Do git down an' pick up the gun for me. You see, if I git downit's a tryin' job to git up again--the side o' this here craft bein' sosteep an' so high out o' the water. Thank'ee; why, boy, you jump downan' up like a powder-monkey. It ain't broke, is it?"

  "No. It seems all right," answered the boy, as he handed the gun to itsowner. "But if you let it go like that often, it won't be much worthwhen the run's over."

  "Let it go, boy?" repeated the sailor. "It was either let it or myselfgo, an' when it comes to a toss up o' that sort, Fred Jenkins knows howto look arter number one."

  It will be seen from all this that our seaman was not quite so much athome on the prairie as on the sea. Indeed, if the expression bepermissible, he was very much at sea on that undulating plain, and didnot take so kindly to the green waves of the rolling prairie as to theheaving billows of the restless ocean; but, as Archie remarked, he wasfast getting broke in.

  The incidents which we have mentioned, however, were but thecommencement of a series of disasters to poor Jenkins, which went far tocure him of a desire to excel in the "noo purfession," and to induce asomewhat violent longing for a return to his first love, the ocean.

  "I can't think what ever could have made you want to come out here,"said Archie, as they continued to follow up the still distant hunters.

  "What was it made yourself want to come out, lad?" asked the sailor.

  "It wasn't me that wanted to come. It was father, you know, an' ofcourse I had to follow," said the boy in a tone which induced his friendto say hastily, and in a tone of sympathy--

  "Ah, poor lad, I forgot you was a orphing. Well, you see, I think itmust ha' bin a love o' change or a love o' discontent, or suthin' o'that sort, as brought me cruising in these here waters, for I can't saywhat else it was. You see I was born a sort o' ro-oh--"

  "Look out! a badger-hole!" shouted the boy.

  His warning would have been too late, but the chestnut fortunatelyleaped over the danger instead of stumbling into it, and its rider wasonly partially shaken out of his seat.

  "It's well," he said, when fairly settled down again to an easy gallop,"that the tiller-ropes are stout else I'd ha' bin over the starn thistime instead of out on the bowsprit. Let me see, what was I sayin' of?"

  "Somethin' about your bein' born a sort of `ro-oh--,' though what _that_may be I haven't a notion."

  "Ah! jist so--I was born a sort o' rover (when this long-legged brutetook the badger-hole), an' I've bin to every quarter o' the globea'most, but if I'd lived to the age o' Methooslum I'd never ha' thoughto' comin' here,--for the good reason that I knowed nothin' o' itsexistence,--if I hadn't by chance in a furrin port fallen in wi' AndreMorel, an' took an uncommon fancy to him. You see, at the time, I was--well, I was no better nor I should be; p'raps a deal wuss, an' Morel hemeets me, an' says--`Hallo, my lad,' says he, `where away?'

  "I looked at him gruff-like a moment or two, for it seemed to me he wasraither too familiar for a stranger, but he's got such a pleasant,hearty look with him--as you know--that I couldn't feel riled with 'im,so `I'm goin' on the spree,' says I.

  "`All right,' says he, `I'm with 'ee, lad. D'ye know the town?'

  "`No more than a Mother Carey's chicken,' says I. `Come along, then,'says he; `I'll tak' 'ee to a fust-rate shop.'

  "So off we went arm in arm as thick as two peas, an' after passin'through two or three streets he turns into a shop that smelt strong o'coffee.

  "`Hallo! mate,' says I, `you've made some sort o' mistake. This hereain't the right sort o' shop.'

  "`O yes, it is,' says he, smilin', quite affable-like. `The best o'tipple here, an' cheap too. Come along. I've got somethin' verypartikler to say to you. Look here, waiter--two cups o' coffee, hot an'strong, some buttered toast, an' no end o' buns, etceterer.'

  "Wi' that he led me to a seat, an' we sat down. I was so took aback an'amused that I waited to see what would foller an' what he'd got to saythat was so partikler--but, I say, Archie, them buffalo runners has gotthe wind o' us, an' are showin' us their heels, I fear."

  "Never fear," returned the boy, rising in his stirrups and shading hiseyes to look ahead. "They do
seem to be leavin' us a bit, but you seeby the dust that the buffalo are holdin' away to the right, so if wekeep still more to the right an' cut round that knoll, I think we'll besafe to catch them up. They're doin' good work, as the carcasses we'vepassed and the rattle o' shots clearly show. But get on wi' your story,Jenkins."

  "Well, it ain't much of a story, lad. What Morel had to say was thathe'd arranged wi' an agent o' Lord Selkirk to come out to this country;an' he was goin' out wi' a lot o' his relations, an' was beatin' up fora few good hands, an' he liked the look o' me, an' would I agree to gowi' him?

  "Well, as you may believe, this was a poser, an' I said I'd think overit, an' let him know next day. You see, I didn't want to seem to jumpat it too eager-like, though I liked the notion, an' I had neither wife,nor sweetheart, nor father or mother, to think about, for I'm a orphing,you see, like yourself, Archie--only a somewhat bigger one.

  "Well, when we'd finished all the coffee, an' all the buns, an' all theetceterers, he began to advise me not to ha' nothin' more to do wi'grog-shops. I couldn't tell 'ee the half o' what he said--no, nor thequarter--but he made such a impression on me that I was more thanhalf-convinced. To say truth, I was so choke-full o' coffee an' buns,an' etceterers, that I don't believe I could ha' swallowed another dropo' liquor.

  "`Where are ye goin' now?' says he, when we'd done.

  "`Back to my ship,' says I.

  "`Come an' ha' tea to-morrow wi' me an' my sister,' says he, `an' we'llhave another talk about Rupert's Land.'

  "`I will,' says I.

  "`Six o'clock, sharp,' says he.

  "`Sharp's the word,' says I.

  "An', sure enough, I went to his house sharp to time next day, an' thereI found him an' his sister. She was as pretty a craft as I ever seteyes on, wi' a modest look an' long fair ringlets--just borderin' onnineteen or thereaway--but you know her, Archie, so I needn't say nomore."

  "What! is that the same woman that's keeping house for him now in RedRiver?"

  "Woman!" repeated the sailor, vehemently; "she's not a woman--she's aangel is Elise Morel. Don't speak disrespectful of her, lad."

  "I won't," returned Archie with a laugh; "but what was the upshot of itall?"

  "The upshot of it," answered the seaman, "was that I've never touched adrop o' strong drink from that day to this, an' that I'm now blownentirely out o' my old courses, an' am cruisin' arter the buffalo on theplains o' Rupert's Land."

  At this point, their minds being set free from the consideration of pasthistory, they made the discovery that the buffalo runners were nowhereto be seen on the horizon, and that they themselves were lost on thegrassy sea.

  "What _shall_ we do?" said the boy, when they had pulled up to considertheir situation. "You see, although I came out here a good while beforeyou did," he added, half apologetically, "I've never been out on theplains without a guide, and don't know a bit how to find the way back tocamp. The prairie is almost as bad as the sea you're so fond of, with aclear horizon all round, and nothing worth speaking of to guide us. An'as you have never been in the plains before, of course you know nothing.In short, Jenkins, I greatly fear that we are lost! Why, what are yougrinning at?"

  The terminal question was induced by the fact that the tall seaman waslooking down at his anxious companion with a broad smile on his handsomesunburnt countenance.

  "So we're lost, are we, Archie?" he said, "like two sweet babes on theprairie instead of in the woods. An' you think I knows nothin'. Well,p'r'aps I don't know much, but you should remember, lad, that an oldsalt wi' a compass in his wes'kit-pocket is not the man to lose hisreck'nin'. I've got one here as'll put us all right on that score, forI was careful to take my bearin's when we set sail, an' I've beenkeepin' an eye on our course all the way. Make your mind easy, my boy."

  So saying, the sailor pulled out the compass referred to, and consultedit. Then he pulled out a watch of the warming-pan type, which he styleda chronometer, and consulted that also; after which he looked up at theclouds--seamanlike--and round the horizon, especially to windward, if wemay speak of such a quarter in reference to a day that was almost quitecalm.

  "Now, Archie, boy, the upshot o' my cogitations is that with a lightbreeze on our starboard quarter, a clear sky overhead, an' a clearconscience within, you and I had better hold on our course for a littlelonger, and see whether we can't overhaul the runners. If we succeed,good and well. If not, why, 'bout-ship, and homeward-bound is thesailin' orders. What say 'ee, lad?"

  "I say whatever you say, Jenkins. If you're sure o' the way back, asI've no doubt you are, why, there couldn't be greater fun than to goafter the buffalo on our own account. And--I say, look there! Isn'tthat somethin' like them on the top o' the far bluff yonder? A fellowlike you, wi' sharp sailor-eyes, ought to be able to make them out."

  "You forget, lad, that I ain't a buffalo runner, an' don't know the cuto' the brutes' jibs yet. It does look like somethin'. Come, we'll goan' see." Putting their horses to the gallop, the two curiously matchedfriends, taking advantage of every knoll and hollow, succeeded ingetting sufficiently near to perceive that a small herd was grazingquietly in a grassy bottom between two prairie waves. They halted atonce for consultation.

  "Now, then, Archie," said the sailor, examining the priming of his gun,"here we are at last, a-goin' to begin a pitched battle. There's thisto be said for us, that neither you nor me knows rightly how to go towork, both on us havin' up to this time bin trained, so to speak, onhearsay. But what o' that? In the language o' the immortial Nelson,`England expec's every man to do his dooty.' Now it seems to me mydooty on the present occasion is to lay myself alongside of a buffaloan' blaze away! Isn't that the order o' battle?"

  "Yes. But don't go for a bull, and don't go too close for fear he turnssharp round an' catches you on his horns. You know the bulls are apt todo that sometimes."

  "Trust me, lad, I'll keep clear o' the bulls."

  "And you understand how to re-load?" asked the boy.

  "O yes, all right. Dan put me thro' the gunnery practice on the wayout, an' I went through it creditably. Only a slight hitch now andthen. Two or three balls in the mouth ready to spit into the gun--"

  "Not all at once, though, Jenkins."

  "In course not, lad: one at a time: no ramming; hit the butt on thesaddle; blaze away; one down, another come on--eh?"

  "That's it," said Archie, eager for the fray. "How I wish Dan had letme have a gun!"

  "Safer not, lad. An' keep well in rear, for I may be apt to fire widein the heat of action."

  With this final caution, the mariner put his gun on full cock, shook thereins, and trotted quietly forward until he saw that the buffalo hadobserved him. Then, as he afterwards expressed it, he "clapped on allsail-stuns'ls alow and aloft, and sky-scrapers--and went into actionlike a true blue British tar, with little Archie Sinclair full sailastern."

  He did not, however, come out of action with as much _eclat_ as he wentinto it, but justice obliges us to admit that he came out victorious.

  We cannot do better than give his own description of that action asrelated beside the camp-fire that night, to a circle of admiringfriends.

  "Well, you must know," he began, after finishing his supper and lightinghis pipe, "that long-legged frigate o' mine that Dan calls a chestnut--though a cocoanut would be more like the thing, if you take size intoaccount--he's as keen for the chase as a small boy arter a butterfly,an' before I could say `Jack Robinson,' a'most, he had me into themiddle o' the herd an' alongside o' the big bull. Any one could tell itwas him, in spite o' the dust we kicked up, by reason o' the side-glanceo' his wicked little eye, his big hairy fore'id, an' his tail stickin'out stiff like a crook'd spankerboom.

  "In course I was not a-goin' to fire into him, so I gave the frigate adig wi' my heels--tho' I'd got no irons on 'em--an' tried to shove upalongside of a fat young cow as was skylarkin' on ahead. As we wentpast the bull he made a vicious dab wi' his horn, and caught the frigateon her flank--right abaf
t the mizzen chains, like. Whew! you should ha'seen what a sheer she made right away to starboard! If it hadn't binthat I was on the look-out, I'd ha' bin slap overboard that time, but Isee'd the squall comin', an', seizin' my brute's mane, held on like amonkey wi' hand an' leg.

  "Well, before I knew where I was, the cocoan--I mean the chestnut, hadme alongside the cow. I stuck the muzzle a'most into her ribs, and letdrive. Down she went by the head, fairly scuttled, an' I could hearyoung Archie givin' a wild cheer astern."

  "`That's the way to go it, Jenkins!' he yelled. `Load again.'

  "But it was easier said than done, I can tell you. You see, I've binbrought up to cartridges all my life, an' the change to pullin' astopper out o' a horn wi' your teeth, pourin' the powder into your lefthand, wi' the gun under your left arm, an' the pitchin' o' the frigate,like as if it was in a cross sea, was raither perplexin'. Hows'ever, ithad to be done, for I was alongside of another cow in a jiffy. I nighknocked out two o' my front teeth in tryin' to shove the stopper in mymouth. Then, when I was pourin' the powder into my hand, I as near ascould be let fall the gun, which caused me to give a sort of gasp ofanxiety, when two o' the three bullets dropped out o' my mouth, but Iheld on to the third wi' my teeth. Just then a puff o' wind blew thepowder out o' my hand into the buffalo's eyes, causin' her to bellowlike a fog-horn, an' obleegin' me to pour out another charge. I did ithastily, as you may well believe, an' about three times what I wantedcame out. Hows'ever, I lost a deal of it in pourin' it into the gun;then I spat the ball in, gettin' another nasty rap on the teeth as I didso, but I'd bit the ball so that it stuck half-way down.

  "It was no time to think o' trifles. I gave the butt an extra bang onthe pommel to send the ball home, shoved the muzzle right in among thehair an' pulled the trigger. There was a bang that sounded to me as ifthe ship's magazine had blown up. It was followed by a constellation o'fire-works and--Archie Sinclair must tell you what happened arter that,for I misremember the whole on it. The fire-works closed the scene tome."

  Archie, nothing loath, and with glistening eyes, took up the narrativeat this point, while the hero of the hour rekindled his pipe.

  "The fact is," he said, "the gun had burst--was blown to atoms; not abit o' the barrel left, and a great lump o' the stock struck Jenkins onthe head, stunned him, and tumbled him off his horse."

  "That was the magazine explosion and fire-works," explained Jenkins.

  "But the queer thing was," continued Archie, "that the buffalo felldead, and, on examining it, we found that a bit o' the barrel had beendriven right into its brain."

  "Ay, boy, but it was queerer still that none o' the pieces struck me ormy horse 'cept that bit o' the stock. An' I'm none the worse, barrin'this lump on the head, that only serves to cock my hat a little more toone side than seems becomin' to a sober-minded man."

  "We were sorry to be able to bring away so little o' the meat," saidArchie, with the gravity of an old hunter; "but, you see, it was toolate to send a cart for it after we got back."

  "Never mind," said Dan Davidson, when the narrative was brought to aclose, "you have done very well for a beginning."

  "Moreover," added Fergus, "it iss a goot feast the wolves will be havin'on the plains this night, an' so, Archie, I'll be wishin' ye better lucknext time."