DESCRIBES A BURST OVER THE WESTERN PRAIRIE, AND INTRODUCES A NEW
CHARACTER, ALSO A HUNT, AND A GREAT FEAST.
Wandering Will and his companions laid the reins on the necks of their
half-tamed horses and galloped wildly away over the western prairie.
Perhaps it was the feeling of absolute freedom from human restraints
that excited them to the galloping and shouting condition of maniacs;
perhaps it was the idea of sweeping over unbounded space in these
interminable plains, or the influence of the fresh air around, the sunny
blue sky overhead, and the flower-speckled sward underfoot--perhaps it
was all these put together, but, whatever the cause, our three
travellers commenced their journey at a pace that would have rendered
them incapable of further progress in a few hours had they kept it up.
Their state of mind was aptly expressed, at the end of one of these wild
flights, by Larry, who exclaimed, as he reined in--
"Ah, then, it's flyin' I'll be in a minit. Sure av I only had a pair o'
wings no bigger than a sparrow's, I cud do it aisy."
"Yoo's a goose, Larry," observed Bunco.
"Faix if I was it's mesilf as would fly away an' lave you to waller on
the dirty earth ye belongs to," retorted the other.
"Dirty earth!" echoed Will Osten, gazing round on the plains of bright
green grass that waved in the soft air with something like the gentle
heavings of the sea. "Come, let's have another!"
They stretched out again at full gallop and swept away like the wind
itself.
"Hooroo!" shouted Larry O'Hale, wildly throwing out both arms and rising
in his stirrups; "look here, Bunco, I'm goin' to fly, boy!"
Larry didn't mean to do so, but he _did_ fly! His horse put its foot in
a badger-hole at that moment and fell. The rider, flying over its head,
alighted on his back, and remained in that position quite motionless,
while his alarmed comrades reined up hastily and dismounted.
"Not hurt, I hope," said Will, anxiously.
"Och! ha! gintly, doctor, take me up tinderly," gasped the poor man as
they raised him to the perpendicular position, in which he stood for
nearly a minute making very wry faces and slowly moving his shoulders
and limbs to ascertain whether any bones were fractured.
"I do belave I'm all right," he said at length with a sigh of relief;
"have a care, Bunco, kape yer paws off, but take a squint at the nape o'
me neck an' see if me back-bone is stickin' up through me shirt-collar."
"Me no can see him," said the sympathetic Bunco.
"That's a blissin' anyhow. I only wish ye cud _feel_ him, Bunco.
Doctor, dear, did ye iver see stars in the day-time?"
"No, never."
"Then ye'd better make a scientific note of it in yer book, for I see
'em at this good minit dancin' about like will-o'-the-wisps in a bog of
Ould Ireland. There, help me on to the back o' the baste--bad luck to
the badgers, say I."
Thus muttering to himself and his comrades, half exasperated by the
stunning effects of his fall, yet rather thankful to find that no real
damage was done, Larry remounted, and all three continued their journey
with not much less enjoyment, but with abated energy.
Thus much for the beginning. Availing ourselves of an author's
privilege to annihilate time and space at pleasure, we change the scene.
The three travellers are still riding over the same prairie, but at the
distance of a hundred miles or so from the spot where the accident above
described took place.
It was evening. The sun was gradually sinking in the west--far beyond
that "far west" to which they had penetrated. The wanderers looked
travel-stained, and appeared somewhat fatigued, while their horses
advanced with slow steps and drooping heads. Two pack-horses, which had
been procured by them with an additional supply of necessaries at a
solitary fort belonging to the fur-traders of that region, were driven
by Larry, whose voice and action seemed to indicate that he and they
were actuated by different sentiments and desires.
"Of all the lazy bastes," he exclaimed, giving one of the horses a
tremendous cut over the flank that startled it into temporary life, "I
iver did see--but, och! what's the use--there's niver a dhrop o' wather
in this wilderness. We may as well lie down an' die at wance."
"Hush, Larry," said Will Osten, "don't talk lightly of dying."
"Lightly is it? Well, now, there's nothin' light about me from the sole
o' me fut to the top o' the tallest hair on me head, an' the heaviest
part about me is the heart, which feels like lead intirely. But cheer
up, Larry, yer owld grandmother always said ye was born to be hanged, so
of coorse ye can't be starved--that's a comfort, anyhow!"
"What think you, Bunco," said Will Osten, turning to his dark-skinned
companion, "shall we encamp on this arid part of the plain and go
waterless as well as supperless to rest, or shall we push on? I fear
the horses will break down if we try to force them much further."
"Water not be far-off," said Bunco curtly.
"Very well, we shall hold on."
In silence they continued to advance until the sun was descending
towards the horizon, when there suddenly appeared, on the brow of an
eminence, the figure of a solitary horseman. Sharply defined as he was
against the bright sky, this horseman appeared to be of supernaturally
huge proportions--insomuch that the three travellers pulled up by tacit
consent, and glanced inquiringly at each other.
"It's a ghost _at last_!" muttered the superstitious Irishman, whose
expression of countenance showed that he was not by any means in a
jesting humour.
"Ghost or not, we must be prepared to meet him," said Will, loosening a
large hunting-knife in its sheath and examining the priming of his
rifle.
The strange horseman had evidently observed the party, for he presently
descended the rising ground and rode slowly towards them. In doing so
he passed out of the strong light, and consequently assumed more
ordinary proportions, but still when he drew near, it was evident that
he was a man of immense size. He rode a black steed of the largest and
most powerful description; was clad in the leathern hunting-shirt, belt,
leggings, moccasins, etcetera, peculiar to the western hunter, and
carried a short rifle in the hollow of his right arm.
"Good-evening, strangers," he said, in a tone that savoured of the
Yankee, but with an easy manner and good-humoured gravity that seemed to
indicate English extraction. "Goin' far?"
"To California," said Will, smiling at the abrupt commencement of the
conversation.
"H'm, a longish bit. Come far?"
"From England."
"H'm, a longish bit, too. Lost and starvin', I see."
"Not exactly, but pretty nearly so," said Will. "I had entertained the
belief, presumptuous if you will, that I could find my way in any part
of the wilderness by means of a sextant and pocket compass, and, to say
truth, I don't feel quite sure that I should have failed, but before I
had a sufficient opportunity of testing my powers, one of our baggage
horses rolled down the bank of a creek and broke my sextant. In trying
to save him I rolled down along with him and smashed my compass, so I
have resigned the position of guide in favour of my friend here, who,
being a native, seems to possess a mysterious power in the matter of
finding his way."
"From the other side of the mountains?" asked the strange horseman,
glancing at Bunco.
"Yoo's right," said Bunco, with a grin.
There was a slight touch of humour in the grave stern countenance of the
stranger as he replied in a language which was quite unintelligible to
Will and Larry, but which appeared to create wonderful sensations in the
breast of Bunco, who for some minutes continued to talk with much
volubility and eagerness.
"You appear to be old friends?" said Will, inquiringly, to the stranger.
"Not 'xactly," he replied, "but I've trapped on the west side o' the
mountains, and the Redskin is excited a bit at meetin' with a man who
knows his nation and his name. I've heard of him before. He was
thought a brave warrior by his tribe, but it is so long since he
disappeared from the face o' the 'arth that they've given him up for
dead. His wife was alive last fall. I saw her myself, and she has
steadily refused to marry any of the young braves--at least she had
refused so to do up to the time I left; but there's no calc'latin' what
these Redskins will do. However, I've comforted this one wi' the news."
"With your leave, Mister Trapper," said Larry, breaking in impatiently
at this point, "may I suggest that when you're quite done talkin' we
should continue our sarch for grub an' wather, for at present our
stummicks is empty an' our mouths is dry!"
"Have you no food?" asked the trapper.
"None," answered Will; "we finished our last scrap of meat yesterday
morning, and have been hoping and expecting to fall in with buffalo ever
since, for the signs around show that they cannot be far distant."
"You are right; I am even now followin' their trail, for, like
yourselves, I'm well-nigh starvin'. Not had a bite for three days."
"Ye don't look like it!" said Larry, gazing at the man in some surprise.
"Perhaps not, nevertheless it's a fact, so we'll push on an' try to find
'em before sundown."
Saying this, the stalwart trapper gave the rein to his stead and
galloped away over the plains, followed as close as possible by the
wearied travellers.
The pace was hard on the horses, but there was need for haste, because
the sun was close on the horizon, and as far as the eye could reach no
buffalo were to be seen. Ere long the character of the prairie changed,
the arid ground gave place to more fertile land, here and there clumps
of willows and even a few small trees appeared, while, in the far
distance, a line of low bushes ran across the country.
"Water dere," said Bunco.
"The Redskin's right," observed the trapper, slackening his speed a
little; "'tis his natur' to know the signs o' the wilderness. Does his
hawk-eye see nothing more?"
"Bufflo!" exclaimed Bunco, as he drew up and gazed intently at a
particular spot in the wilderness.
"Ay, lad, it is buffalo an' no mistake. I know'd I should find 'em
there," said the trapper, with a quiet chuckle, as he examined the
priming of his rifle. "Now, friends, we'll have to approach them
quietly. You'd better catch up the halters o' your pack-horses, Mister
Irishman--"
"Larry O'Hale at your sarvice, Mister Trapper."
"Benjamin Hicks at yours, Mister O'Hale, but I'm better known as Big
Ben! And now," he continued, "keep well in rear, all of you, an' follow
me down in the bottom there, between the ridges. Don't out o'
cooriosity go exposin' yourselves to the buffalo. In the meantime keep
quiet, and let your mouths water at the thought o' fat steaks and
marrow-bones."
Benjamin Hicks galloped along the bottom of the hollow for a
considerable distance; then, dismounting, hobbled his horse by tying its
two fore feet together with a piece of rope. Thus hampered, it could
hop about in an awkward fashion and feed, while its master advanced on
foot. With rapid strides he proceeded some distance further along the
bottom, and then ascended the ridge in a stooping position. On nearing
the summit he crept on hands and knees, and, on gaining it, he sank like
a phantom into the grass and disappeared.
The party who followed him stopped on reaching the spot where the horse
had been left, and for some time waited in excited and silent
expectation, listening for the report of the hunter's rifle. Despite
the caution given them, however, they could not long refrain from
attempting to see what was going on. After waiting a few minutes, Will
Osten hobbled his horse and crept up the side of the ridge, which might
be more correctly described as an undulating prairie-wave. Bunco and
Larry followed his example. When they all lay flat among the grass on
the summit and raised their heads cautiously, the sight that met their
eyes sent a thrill of delight to their hearts.
It was still the boundless prairie, indeed, but its uniform flatness was
broken by innumerable knolls and hillocks, of varied extent, which
looked like islands in a green sea. Some were covered with clusters of
white pines, others with low bushes. Rich grass waved gently in the
evening breeze, giving to the whole scene an air of quiet motion. Not
far distant flowed the little stream already referred to, and as this
reflected the gorgeous golden clouds that were lit up by the setting
sun, it appeared like a stream of liquid fire meandering over the
plains, while, far, far away on the hazy and glowing horizon--so far
that it seemed as if a whole world lay between--a soft blue line was
faintly visible. It might have been mistaken for the distant sea, or a
long low cloud of azure blue, but Will Osten knew that, however unlike
to them it might appear, this was in reality the first glimpse of the
Rocky Mountains! The pleasantest sight of all, however, was a group of
ten or a dozen buffalo, which grazed, in all the lazy ease of fancied
security, at the side of a knoll not more than three hundred yards
distant. As our travellers lay, with bated breath and beating hearts,
gazing at these animals, dreaming of feasting on fat things, and waiting
for a shot, they became aware of a low murmuring sound somewhat
resembling distant thunder, but softer and more continuous. On scanning
the plains more intently they perceived that here and there were other
scattered groups of buffalo, more or less concealed by knolls, while in
the extreme distance a black line, which they had at first mistaken for
bushes, proved to be an immense herd of living creatures, whose pawings
and bellowings reached them like a faint murmur.
Suddenly the animals close to them sprang into the air as if they had
received an electric shock. At the same instant a white cloudlet of
smoke rose above the grass, and a few seconds later the sharp crack of
the trapper's rifle broke on their ears. The huge ungainly brutes
bounded away, leaving one of their number behind. He writhed violently,
and then lay gently down. A moment of suspense followed, for he might
rise again and run beyond pursuit, as buffalo often do under a deadly
wound! But no! he curled his tail, gasped once or twice, and rolled
over on his side.
Knives were out in a moment, and the whole party rushed like wolves upon
the prey. First, they rolled the animal upon his brisket, slit his hide
along the spine, peeled it down one side, and cut off a piece large
enough to form a wrapper for the meat. Next the flesh on each side of
the spine was pared off, and the tongue cut out. The axe was then
applied to his ribs--the heart, the fat, the tender loins and other
parts were taken out; then the great marrow-bones were cut from his
legs, and the whole being wrapped in the green hide, was slung on a
pole, and carried by Will Osten and the trapper to the nearest suitable
camping ground. This was on the edge of a grove of white pine by the
side of the clear rivulet under the shade of a woody hill. Here, before
darkness had completely set in, Will and his new friend kindled a great
fire and prepared supper, while Larry and Bunco went off to fetch and
tether the horses.
Now, reader, you must understand that it was no light duty which lay
before the wanderers that evening. They had to make up for a good many
missed meals. The word "ravenous" scarcely indicates their condition!
They were too hungry to lose time, too tired to speak. Everything,
therefore, was done with quiet vigour. Steaks were impaled on pieces of
stick, and stuck up before the fire to roast. When one side of a steak
was partially done, pieces of it were cut off and devoured while the
other was cooking. At the expense of a little burning of the lips, and
a good deal of roasting of the face, the severe pangs of hunger were
thus slightly allayed, then each man sat down before the blaze with his
back against a tree, his hunting-knife in one hand, a huge rib or steak
in the other, and quietly but steadily and continuously devoured beef!
"Och! when did I iver ait so much before?" exclaimed Larry, dropping a
peeled rib.
"What! not goin' to give in yet?" said Big Ben, setting up another rib
to roast; "why, that'll never do. You must eat till daylight, if you
would be fit to travel in the prairie. Our wild meat never pains one.
You may eat as much as you can hold. That's always the way we do in the
far west. Sometimes we starve for six or eight days at a time, and then
when we get plenty, we lay in good store and pack it well down, always
beginnin' wi' the best pieces first, for fear that some skulkin' Redskin
should kill us before we've had time to enjoy them. See here, you've
only had the first course; rest a bit while I prepare the second."
While he spoke, Ben was breaking up the marrow-bones with his hatchet,
and laying bare the beautiful rolls of "trappers' butter" within.
Having extracted about a pound of marrow, he put it into a gallon of
water, and, mixing along with it a quantity of the buffalo's blood and a
little salt, set it on the fire to boil. In a short time this savoury
soup was ready. Turn not up your noses at it, "ye gentlemen of England,
who live at home at ease," (though, by the way, we doubt the reality of
that "ease," which causes so much dyspepsia amongst you that good food
becomes unpalatable and strong food nauseous), but believe us when we
tell you that the soup was super-excellent.
"Musha!" exclaimed Larry, when he tasted the first spoonful, "I feel
exactly as if I had ait nothin' at all yit--only goin' to begin!" And
with that he and his comrades attacked and consumed the soup until their
faces shone again with grease and gladness.
"That'll do now," said Larry in a decided tone, as he rose and stretched
himself, preparatory to filling his beloved pipe--"not a dhrop nor a
bite more on any account."
"Is you stuffed full?" asked Bunco.
"Pretty nigh," replied Larry, glancing at his friend with an inquiring
look; "seems to me that _you_ have overdone it."
"Me is pretty tight," said Bunco languidly.
"Come, come," cried the trapper, "don't shirk your victuals. There's
one more course, and then you can rest if you have a mind to."
So saying, the indefatigable man took up the intestines of the buffalo,
which had been properly prepared for the purpose, turned them inside
out, and proceeded to stuff them with strips of tender loin well salted
and peppered. The long sausage thus hastily made was hung in festoons
before the fire, and roasted until it was thoroughly browned. Portions
were then cut off and set down before the company. When each thought of
beginning he felt as though the swallowing of a single bite were utterly
impossible, but when each had actually begun he could not stop, but
continued eating until all was finished, and then wished for more, while
Benjamin Hicks chuckled heartily to witness the success of his cookery
and the extent of his friends' powers.
Ah, it is all very well, reader, for you to say "Humph! nonsense," but
go you and wander for a year or two among the Rocky Mountains, acquire
the muscles of a trapper and the digestion of an ostrich, then starve
yourself for a few days, and get the chance of a "feed" such as we have
feebly described, and see whether you won't come home (if you ever come
home) saying, "Well, after all, truth _is_ strange, stranger than
fiction!"
It need scarcely be said that the solace of the pipe was sought
immediately after the meal was concluded by Will, Larry, and Bunco; but
Big Ben did not join them. He had starved longer than they, and
intended, as he said, to eat all night!
"Well," observed Larry, as he extended himself at full length before the
blaze, and resting his right elbow on the ground and his head on his
hand, smoked in calm felicity; "I've often found that there's nothin'
like tiredness to make a man enjoy rest, but, faix, it's this night I've
larned, as I niver did before, that there's nothin' like starvation to
mak wan enjoy his victuals."
"Eight, Larry," said Will Osten with a laugh; "upon my word I think it
would be worth while to live always on the plan of missing our meals
each alternate day, in order to enjoy them more thoroughly on the other
days."
"If city men would go on that plan," observed the trapper, gravely
tearing the flesh from a rib with his teeth, and speaking at the same
time, "there would be no use for doctors."
"Ah, then, think of that now; wouldn't it be a rail hard case for the
poor doctors?" said Larry, with a sly glance at Will.
Bunco grinned at this, and observed that it was "time for hims be go
sleep." Whereupon he rolled his blanket about him and lay down with his
feet to the fire. Will Osten also lay down and fell asleep almost
immediately. Larry, too, stretched himself out in repose, leaving Big
Ben still engaged with the buffalo beef.
The night was rather cold. In course of time Will Osten awoke, and
called to the trapper to mend the fire, which he did, and then resumed
his former occupation. Once or twice after that, one and another of the
slumberers awoke, and, looking up sleepily for a few seconds, beheld the
enduring man still hard at work. The last to lift his head that night
was Larry. The puzzled Irishman gazed in mute amazement during the
unusually long period of half a minute, for Benjamin Hicks still sat
there, glittering in the light of the camp-fire, grave as a Redskin, and
busy as ever with the bones!