Guy was surprised and delighted to find that his fool-hardy escapade
had brought upon him no injury except a few bruises, which, however,
did not prevent him from assisting the men to take into camp the
carcasses of the three buffaloes they had slain.
That proved a busy afternoon in the camp. The buffaloes were skinned,
and their shaggy hides hung up in the sun to dry. Then the choicest
parts of the bodies were cut up and salted, and the rest left to the
hungry wolves, who are the natural enemies of the buffalo--one of
which, when wounded, they will often follow, and harass to death.
And what a splendid supper of buffalo steak they had. Guy fancied he
never had tasted anything so delicious, though George, in his usual
contradictory mood, declared he thought beef much nicer. But as no one
paid any attention to him, his opinion had not much effect, and no one
enjoyed the supper the less for it.
As only a slight sketch of Guy's wonderful escape had been given by
Harwood upon his return to camp, the children were anxious to hear a
full account of it, and as soon as the dishes were washed, the fuel
for the night brought in and Guy was at liberty to take his usual seat
by the fire, they called upon him to tell them all about it. He did
so in as few words as possible, for he felt as much ashamed of his
discomfiture as an old hunter might have been likely to do.
Aggie looked very serious after hearing the account of her favorite's
danger. George laughed as he thought of the figure Guy must have cut
when pitched from his horse over the back of the buffalo; and Gus with
great earnestness asked him what he thought of at the time it all
happened.
"I saw and heard too much to think of anything," replied Guy, quite
unable to repress a laugh at Gus' question and eager look, "the first
thing I thought of when Mr. Graham took me from the ground was to clear
the sand from my nose, eyes, and mouth. If you had seen me you would
have fancied I had been burrowing in the dirt for a twelve month. After
that I was very thankful that I escaped so well, and on the way home I
recalled to mind almost everything I had ever read about buffaloes, and
among other things a mode in which the Indians hunt them, and which is
described in the adventures of Lewis and Clarke."
"Who were Lewis and Clarke?" asked Gus.
"Two men, who in the days of Washington and Jefferson, and chiefly by
the aid of the latter, headed a party of men, who were the first to
explore Oregon, and discover the rise of the Columbia and Missouri
Rivers."
"What fun they must have had," exclaimed George, "among the Indians
that had never seen a white man before."
"They were so constantly surrounded by dangers," said Guy, "that I
guess they found the _fun_ rather scarce. But they had a great many
exciting adventures among the Indians, and learned many of their
strange habits."
"Well, you were going to tell us about a way they had of hunting
buffaloes," interrupted Gus. "How was it?"
"Well, first they would find, either by accident or after a search, a
herd of buffaloes, grazing on a plateau, perhaps three or four hundred
feet above the river, for such are very often found a mile or more in
length along the Columbia or Missouri Rivers, which abruptly terminate,
forming a precipice so perfectly perpendicular that neither man or
beast can gain a foothold on their sides.
"Toward this precipice a young warrior wrapped in a buffalo robe, and
crowned with the head and horns, decoys the game, while the others
chase them forward, riding their swiftest horses, bearing their best
arms, and uttering their wildest shouts. The whole herd maddened by
the hunters, will usually follow the decoy--their fancied leader--when
suddenly he will hide beneath some cliff, the buffaloes will rush on,
seeing no danger ahead, or unable to check their headlong career, and
thus very often a hundred or more will spring over the precipice, and
be dashed to pieces on the rocks below."
"Good!" cried George, excitedly.
"And just think then what a good time the Indians have picking up the
pieces," commented Gus, "I'd like to see them do it. Just think of two
or three hundred Indians all at work together, jerking the meat, and
shouting and dancing."
"Ah, yes. That's all very well!" said Aggie, thoughtfully. "But I
wouldn't like so much to be the decoy. Suppose he couldn't hide in
time."
"Sometimes he can't," said Guy, "and in that case he is trodden under
foot by the herd, or carried with them over the precipice. I am like
you, Aggie, I shouldn't like to be the decoy. It is bad enough to face
one buffalo, and I have no wish to try a hundred."
"Oh, dear!" exclaimed Aggie, "I should die with fright if I were to
meet even one."
"Oh! That's because you are nothing but a girl--but boys--!" George
left his sentence unfinished, for of late he had become very careful of
boasting before Guy, whom he knew was too well acquainted with him to
be deceived by empty words.
"Girls, or no girls!" exclaimed Aggie, a little angrily, "I learned
those verses mamma gave us, to-day, while you don't know them at all!"
"Verses are only made for girls!" answered George, contemptuously.
"And for some boys," said Guy, "I for one like to hear them. What are
yours about Aggie?"
"Listen! They are about
'THE CHILDREN IN THE SKY.'
"Little Allie, tired with roaming,
Fell asleep one summer day;
In the soft, and mellow gloaming,
That the fairies haunt, they say.
And, into her dream, there came then
Fays, or Angels pure and fair,
Filling all the lonesome glen
With sweet music, rich and rare.
"'Child!' they said, as slow around her
One by one they floated on,
'Look into the clearer ether,
Close beside the setting sun!'
Then she looked, and lo! the cloudlets
Parted back and showed her there,
Myriad angels, sinless spirits
Sporting in a garden fair.
"Sporting, smiling, fondly twining,
Round each other snow white arms;
While a halo o'er them shining,
Saved them from the night's alarms.
Loud they sung in notes of gladness,
Ever o'er the sweet refrain;
'Jesus loves us! we shall never
Lose His tender care again."
"'Here the flow'rets bloom forever;
Here the sun of God doth shine;
Here doth flow the crystal river,
Giving all a life divine!'
Then the peerless vision faded,
And the fairies stole away;
All the dell with gloom was shaded,
Darkness 'round sweet Allie lay.
"Then she woke from out her slumber,
And she said--within her heart--
'Shall I join that happy number?
In their joyous song take part?'
Then she prayed that God would lead her
In the path to heaven above,
And that she might dwell forever
Blessed by Christ's redeeming love.
"And before the year was over,
God in love gave back reply,--
For He led the little rover,
To the children in the sky."
"That is a sweet little tale," said Guy, when Aggie had finished, "But
it is almost a pity such a good little girl should die."
"But the good little girls, in stories, always do die!" exclaimed
George, "And that is why I don't like to hear about them. That's the
reason, too, that I tease our Aggie so, I want to get her into a
passion so she won't get too good and be spirited out of the world
right away."
They all laughed at this ingenious defense; and then as Guy declared
himself very tired, and quite stiff and sore from the number of bruises
upon his body, they soon separated for the night, and ere long all was
still about the camp, except the fires that flickered and blazed, as if
in derision of the calm night, and its heavy-eyed attendant--Sleep.