While the bereaved parents were thus hastening by forced marches to
their own camp, a band of Blackfeet was riding in another direction in
quest of buffalo, for their last supply of fresh meat had been nearly
consumed. Along with them they took several women to dry the meat and
otherwise prepare it. Among these were poor Moonlight and her friend
Skipping Rabbit, also their guardian Umqua.
Ever since their arrival in camp Rushing River had not only refrained
from speaking to his captives, but had carefully avoided them.
Moonlight was pleased at first but at last she began to wonder why he
was so shy, and, having utterly failed in her efforts to hate him, she
naturally began to feel a little hurt by his apparent indifference.
Very different was the conduct of Eaglenose, who also accompanied the
hunting expedition. That vivacious youth, breaking through all the
customs and peculiarities of Red Indian etiquette, frequently during the
journey came and talked with Moonlight, and seemed to take special
pleasure in amusing Skipping Rabbit.
"Has the skipping one," he said on one occasion, "brought with her the
little man that jumps?" by which expression he referred to the
jumping-jack.
"Yes, he is with the pack-horses. Does Eaglenose want to play with
him?"
Oh, she was a sly and precocious little rabbit, who had used well her
opportunities of association with Little Tim to pick up the ways and
manners of the pale-faces--to the surprise and occasional amusement of
her red relations, whom she frequently scandalised not a little. Well
did she know how sensitive a young Indian brave is as to his dignity,
how he scorns to be thought childish, and how he fancies that he looks
like a splendid man when he struts with superhuman gravity, just as a
white boy does when he puts a cigar between his unfledged lips. She
thought she had given a tremendous stab to the dignity of Eaglenose; and
so she had, yet it happened that the dignity of Eaglenose escaped,
because it was shielded by a buckler of fun so thick that it could not
easily be pierced by shafts of ridicule.
"Yes; I want to play with him," answered the youth, with perfect
gravity, but a twinkle of the eyes that did not escape Skipping Rabbit;
"I'm fond of playing with him, because he is your little husband, and I
want to make friends with the husband of the skipping one; he is so
active, and kicks about his arms and legs so well. Does he ever kick
his little squaw? I hope not."
"Oh yes, sometimes," returned the child. "He kicked me last night
because I said he was so like Eaglenose."
"The little husband did well. A wooden chief so grand did not like to
be compared to a poor young brave who has only begun to go on the
war-path, and has taken no scalps yet."
The mention of war-path and scalps had the effect of quieting the poor
child's tendency to repartee. She thought of her father and Little Tim,
and became suddenly grave.
Perceiving and regretting this, the young Indian hastily changed the
subject of conversation.
"The Blackfeet," he said, "have heard much about the great pale-faced
chief called Leetil Tim. Does the skipping one know Leetil Tim?"
The skipping one, whose good humour was quite restored at the mere
mention of her friend's name, said that she not only knew him, but loved
him, and had been taught many things by him.
"I suppose he taught you to speak and act like the pale-faced squaws?"
said Eaglenose.
"I suppose he did," returned the child, with a laugh, "and Moonlight
helped him. But perhaps it is also because I have white blood in me.
My mother was a pale-face."
"That accounts for Skipping Rabbit being so ready to laugh, and so fond
of fun," said the youth.
"Was the father of Eaglenose a pale-face?" asked the child.
"No; why?"
"Because Eaglenose is as ready to laugh and as fond of fun as Skipping
Rabbit. If his father was not a pale-face, he could not I think, have
been very red."
What reply the youth would have made to this we cannot tell, for at that
moment scouts came in with the news that buffalo had been seen grazing
on the plain below.
Instantly the bustle of preparation for the chase began. The women were
ordered to encamp and get ready to receive the meat. Scouts were sent
out in various directions, and the hunters advanced at a gallop.
The region through which they were passing at the time was marked by
that lovely, undulating, park-like scenery which lies in some parts
between the rugged slopes of the mountain range and the level expanse of
the great prairies. Its surface was diversified by both kinds of
landscape--groups of trees, little knolls, stretches of forest, and
occasional cliffs, being mingled with wide stretches of grassy plain,
with rivulets here and there to add to the wild beauty of the scene.
After a short ride over the level ground the Blackfeet came to a fringe
of woodland, on the other side of which they were told by the scouts a
herd of buffalo had been seen browsing on a vast sweep of open plain.
Riding cautiously through the wood, they came to the edge of it and
dismounted, while Rushing River and Eaglenose advanced alone and on foot
to reconnoitre.
Coming soon to that outer fringe of bushes, beyond which there was no
cover, they dropped on hands and knees and went forward in that manner
until they reached a spot whence a good view of the buffalo could be
obtained. The black eyes of the two Indians glittered, and the red of
their bronzed faces deepened with emotion as they gazed. And truly it
was a sight well calculated to stir to the very centre men whose chief
business of life was the chase, and whose principal duty was to procure
food for their women and children, for the whole plain away to the
horizon was dotted with groups of those monarchs of the western
prairies. They were grazing quietly, as though such things as the
rattle of guns, the whiz of arrows, the thunder of horse-hoofs, and the
yells of savages had never sounded in their ears.
The chief and the young brave exchanged impressive glances, and retired
in serpentine fashion from the scene.
A few minutes later, and the entire band of horsemen--some with bows and
a few with guns--stood at the outmost edge of the bushes that fringed
the forest land. Beyond this there was no cover to enable them to
approach nearer to the game without being seen, so preparation was made
for a sudden dash.
The huge rugged creatures on the plain continued to browse peacefully,
giving an occasional toss to their enormous manes, raising a head now
and then, as if to make sure that all was safe, and then continuing to
feed, or giving vent to a soft low of satisfaction. It seemed cruel to
disturb so much enjoyment and serenity with the hideous sounds of war.
But man's necessities must be met. Until Eden's days return there is no
deliverance for the lower animals. Vegetarians may reduce their
theories to practice in the cities and among cultivated fields, but
vegetarians among the red men of the Far West or the squat men of the
Arctic zone, would either have to violate their principles or die.
As Rushing River had no principles on the subject, and was not prepared
for voluntary death, he gave a signal to his men, and in an instant
every horse was elongated, with ears flat nostrils distended, and eyes
flashing, while the riders bent low, and mingled their black locks with
the flying manes.
For a few seconds no sound was heard save the muffled thunder of the
hoofs, at which the nearest buffaloes looked up with startled inquiry in
their gaze. Another moment, and the danger was appreciated. The mighty
host went off with pig-like clumsiness--tails up and manes tossing.
Quickly the pace changed to desperate agility as the pursuing savages,
unable to restrain themselves, relieved their feelings with terrific
yells.
As group after group of astonished animals became aware of the attack
and joined in the mad flight the thunder on the plains swelled louder
and louder, until it became one continuous roar--like the sound of a
rushing cataract--a bovine Niagara! At first the buffaloes and the
horses seemed well matched, but by degrees the superiority of the latter
became obvious, as the savages drew nearer and nearer to the flying
mass. Soon a puff or two of smoke, a whistling bullet and a whizzing
arrow told that the action had begun. Here and there a black spot
struggling on the plain gave stronger evidence. Then the hunters and
hunted became mixed up, the shots and whizzing were more frequent, the
yells more terrible, and the slaughter tremendous. No fear now that
Moonlight, and Skipping Rabbit, and Umqua, and all the rest of them, big
and little, would not have plenty of juicy steaks and marrow-bones for
many days to come.
But all this was not accomplished without some damage to the hunters.
Here and there a horse, having put his foot into a badger-hole, was seen
to continue his career for a short space like a wheel or a shot hare,
while his rider went ahead independently like a bird, and alighted--
anyhow! Such accidents, however, seldom resulted in much damage, red
skin being probably tougher than white, and savage bones less brittle
than civilised. At all events, nothing very serious occurred until the
plain was pretty well strewn with wounded animals.
Then it was that Eaglenose, in his wild ambition to become the best
hunter of the tribe, as well as the best warrior, singled out an old
bull, and gave chase to him. This was wanton as well as foolish, for
bulls are dangerous and their meat is tough. What cared Eaglenose for
that? The spirit of his fathers was awakened in him (a bad spirit
doubtless), and his blood was up. Besides, Rushing River was close
alongside of him, and several emulous braves were close behind.
Eaglenose carried a bow. Urging his steed to the uttermost he got close
up to the bull. Fury was in the creature's little eyes, and madness in
its tail. When a buffalo bull cocks its tail with a little bend in the
middle thereof, it is time to "look out for squalls."
"Does Eaglenose desire to hunt with his fathers in the happy
hunting-grounds?" muttered Rushing River.
"Eaglenose knows not fear," returned the youth boastfully.
As he spoke he bent his bow, and discharged an arrow. He lacked the
precision of Robin Hood. The shaft only grazed the bull's shoulder, but
that was enough. A Vesuvian explosion seemed to heave in his capacious
bosom, and found vent in a furious roar. Round he went like an
opera-dancer on one leg, and lowered his shaggy head. The horse's chest
went slap against it as might an ocean-billow against a black rock, and
the rider, describing a curve with a high trajectory, came heavily down
upon his eagle nose.
It was an awful crash, and after it the poor youth lay prone for a few
minutes with his injured member in the dust--literally, for he had
ploughed completely through the superincumbent turf.
Fortunately for poor Eaglenose, Rushing River carried a gun, with which
he shot the bull through the heart and galloped on. So did the other
Indians. They were not going to miss the sport for the sake of helping
a fallen comrade to rise.
When at last the unfortunate youth raised his head he presented an
appearance which would have justified the change of his name to
Turkeycocknose, so severe was the effect of his fall.
Getting into a sitting posture, the poor fellow at first looked dazed.
Then observing something between his eyes that was considerably larger
than even he had been accustomed to, he gently raised his hand to his
face and touched it. The touch was painful, so he desisted. Then he
arose, remounted his steed, which stood close to him, looking stupid
after the concussion, and followed the hunt, which by that time was on
the horizon.
But something worse was in store for another member of the band that
day. After killing the buffalo bull, as before described, the chief
Rushing River proceeded to reload his gun.
Now it must be known that in the days we write of the firearms supplied
to the Nor'-west Indians were of very inferior quality. They were
single flint-lock guns, with blue-stained barrels of a dangerously
brittle character, and red-painted brass-mounted stocks, that gave them
the appearance of huge toys. It was a piece of this description which
Rushing River carried, and which he proceeded to reload in the usual
manner--that is, holding the gun under his left arm, he poured some
powder from a horn into his left palm; this he poured from his palm into
the gun, and, without wadding or ramming, dropped after the powder a
bullet from his mouth, in which magazine he carried several bullets so
as to be ready. Then driving the butt of the gun violently against the
pommel of the saddle, so as to send the whole charge home and cause the
weapon to prime itself, he aimed at the buffalo and fired.
Charges thus loosely managed do not always go quite "home." In this
case the ball had stuck half-way down, and when the charge exploded the
gun burst and carried away the little finger of the chief's left hand.
But it did more. A piece of the barrel struck the chief on the head,
and he fell from his horse as if he had been shot.
This catastrophe brought the hunt to a speedy close. The Indians
assembled round their fallen chief with faces graver, if possible, than
usual. They bound up his wounds as well as they could, and made a
rough-and-ready stretcher out of two poles and a blanket, in which they
carried him into camp. During the greater part of the short journey he
was nearly if not quite unconscious. When they at length laid him down
in his tent, his mother, although obviously anxious, maintained a stern
composure peculiar to her race.
Not so the captive Moonlight. When she saw the apparently dead form of
Rushing River carried into his tent, covered with blood and dust, her
partially white spirit was not to be restrained. She uttered a sharp
cry, which slightly roused the chief, and, springing to his side, went
down on her knees and seized his hand. The action was involuntary and
almost momentary. She recovered herself at once, and rose quickly, as
grave and apparently as unmoved as the reddest of squaws. But Rushing
River had noted the fact, and divined the cause. The girl loved him! A
new sensation of almost stern joy filled his heart. He turned over on
his side without a look or word to any one, and calmly went to sleep.
We have already said, or hinted, that Rushing River was a peculiar
savage. He was one of those men--perhaps not so uncommon as we think--
who hold the opinion that women are not made to be mere beasts of
burden, makers of moccasins and coats, and menders of leggings, cookers
of food, and, generally, the slaves of men. One consequence was that he
could not bear the subdued looks and almost cringing gait of the
Blackfoot belles, and had remained a bachelor up to the date of our
story.
He preferred to live with his mother, who, by the way, was also an
exception to the ordinary class of squaws. She was rudely intellectual
and violently self-assertive, though kind-hearted withal.
That night when his mother chanced to be alone in the tent, he held some
important conversation with her. Moonlight happened to be absent at a
jumping-jack entertainment with Skipping Rabbit in the tent of
Eaglenose, the youth himself being the performer in spite of his nose!
Most of the other women in the camp were at the place where the buffalo
were being cut up and dried and converted into pemmican.
"Mother," said Rushing River, who in reality had been more stunned than
injured--excepting, of course, the little finger, which was indeed gone
past recovery.
"My son," said Umqua, looking attentively in the chief's eyes.
"The eagle has been brought down at last. Rushing River will be the
same man no more. He has been hit in his heart."
"I think not, my son," returned Umqua, looking somewhat anxious. "A
piece of the bad gun struck the head of Rushing River, but his breast is
sound. Perhaps he is yet stunned, and had better sleep again."
"I want not sleep, mother," replied the chief in figurative language;
"it is not the bursting gun that has wounded me, but a spear of light--a
moonbeam."
"Moonlight!" exclaimed Umqua, with sudden intelligence.
"Even so, mother; Rushing River has at last found a mate in Moonlight."
"My son is wise," said Umqua.
"I will carry the girl to the camp of mine enemy," continued the chief,
"and deliver her to her father."
"My son is a fool," said Umqua.
"Wise, and a fool! Can that be possible, mother?" returned the chief
with a slight smile.
"Yes, quite possible," said the woman promptly. "Man can be wise at one
time, foolish at another--wise in one act, foolish in another. To take
Moonlight to your tent is wise. I love her. She has brains. She is
not like the young Blackfoot squaws, who wag their tongues without
ceasing when they have nothing to say and never think--brainless ones!--
fools! Their talk is only about each other behind-backs and of
feeding."
"The old one is hard upon the young ones," said the chief gravely; "not
long ago I heard the name of Umqua issue from a wigwam. The voice that
spoke was that of the mother of Eaglenose. Rushing River listens not to
squaws' tales, but he cannot stop his ears. The words floated to him
with the smoke of their fire. They were, `Umqua has been very kind to
me.' I heard no more."
"The mother of Eaglenose is not such a fool as the rest of them," said
Umqua, in a slightly softer tone; "but why does my son talk foolishness
about going to the tents of his enemy, and giving up a girl who it is
easy to see is good and wise and true, and a hard worker, and _not_ a
fool?"
"Listen, mother. It is because Moonlight is all that you say, and much
more, that I shall send her home. Besides, I have come to know that the
pale-face who was shot by one of our braves is the preacher whose words
went to my heart when I was a boy. I _must_ see him."
"But Bounding Bull and Leetil Tim will certainly kill you."
"Leetil Tim is not like the red men," returned the chief; "he does not
love revenge. My enemy Bounding Bull hunts with him much, and has taken
some of his spirit. I am a red man. I love revenge because my fathers
loved it; but there is something within me that is not satisfied with
revenge. I will go alone and unarmed. If they kill me, they shall not
be able to say that Rushing River was a coward."
"My son is weak; his fall has injured him."
"Your son is strong, mother. His love for Moonlight has changed him."
"If you go you will surely die, my son."
"I fear not death, mother. I feel that within me which is stronger than
death."