BAGGING A BUFFALO
"THERE was an arrow shot; I saw it sticking in the side of that buffalo
before it fell over, after running off a little way!" whispered Sandy,
excitedly, when both he and his brother dropped back again beside the
Irish trapper.
"And I saw that wolf holding a short bow!" gasped Bob.
"Oh! how could that be?" Sandy exclaimed.
"Whist! don't spake so loud on yees life, me byes," broke in Pat,
holding up a warning finger. "There do be danger to us all, right here."
"Danger!" echoed Sandy; "from the buffalo?"
"From the Injuns, be the powers," added the trapper. "Not a worrd now,
above the faintest whisper, do ye mind, till we lay our plans. 'Tis a
ticklish job Pat has on his hands, so it is."
"Indians!" breathed the startled Sandy; and then, like a flash, a look
of comprehension passed over his face. "Oh! now I understand what you
mean. That old wolf isn't what he pretends to be; but an Indian brave,
covered with a wolfskin."
"Glory be! the bye has guessed it!" chuckled Pat, who could be amused
even when facing imminent peril.
"Can we peep again, Pat?" asked Bob, really eager to see how the
cunning red hunter managed to accomplish the slaughter of the great
buffalo.
"Av ye be mighty careful, and do not make any quick move to atthract
attention; becase the chances are, the hathen do be havin' frinds clost
by, ready to cut up the game whin he secures the same. Aisy now, Sandy,
and take it slow. Just the tip av yer nose, do ye mind."
Accordingly both boys elevated their heads until they could just
barely see above the top of the moving grass. The fact that Bob wore a
cap made from the skin of a coon, with several striped tails hanging
behind, while that perched on the head of his younger brother was
fashioned out of gray squirrel skins, added much to their security, as
they were less likely to be noticed by watchful eyes.
[Illustration: "THEY COULD NOW PLAINLY DISCERN THE FIGURE UNDER THE
WOLFSKIN."]
The strange wolf was moving now in the direction of a buffalo cow, that
seemed to be a little suspicious, since she shook her head several
times, and looked toward the gray animal as though not wholly convinced
that a single wolf might not mean harm to the herd.
Presently the chance for which the red hunter waited seemed to come.
The watching boys saw him suddenly rise up, as though on his knees;
and they could now plainly discern the figure under the wolfskin. He
carried a short bow, and undoubtedly one of great power, that was
calculated to send a barbed shaft half way through even so great an
animal as a buffalo.
Bob was touching the arm of his brother at the time. He plainly felt
Sandy start when they caught the peculiar "twang" of a bow-string,
telling them that the red hunter had fired his shaft. The buffalo cow
started to run away; but, after going a dozen feet or so, fell to her
knees, tried to rise, gave a low bellow, and then rolled over on her
side.
Some of the remaining animals raised their heads, and looked in mild
surprise; then went on cropping the grass again, as though their alarm
had been short-lived.
The two boys dropped back to the side of Pat, who had possibly also
been watching this strange panorama, to be seen nowhere else on the
broad earth.
Bob looked at Sandy, and the other returned his amazed gaze with
interest.
"Did you see him do that job, and ain't he able to use that short bow
better'n any Indian you ever met?" whispered Sandy.
"That's why so many of the buffalo look like they're sleeping," Bob
went on to say. "That Indian hunter has been killing them off. I guess
he's shot six or seven by now."
"But what will he do with all that meat; just eat the tongues?" Sandy
asked.
Bob turned to Pat, a question in his eye, and the trapper, holding up
that warning finger to make sure that they kept their voices toned
down, so that they could not be heard above the rustle of the long
grass in the breeze, answered him.
"Jerk it for winter use; d'ye mind?" was all he said, but the boys
understood.
They had been in an Indian village, and seen how the surplus venison or
buffalo meat was dried in strips. This jerked meat was stored away for
the time when game might be scarce, or the red hunters felt indisposed
to leave their comfortable wigwams to look for it. And, whenever a
runner was sent on a long journey, this tough meat formed his sole stay
while on the way. It required no cooking, and a piece put in the mouth
could be masticated by degrees, serving the useful purpose of keeping
the jaws working, and at the same time affording sustenance to the body.
"But this upsets all our plans," complained Sandy, who did not see
how they were to make any attempt at getting a buffalo, when possibly
a dozen red hunters were close by, waiting until their comrade with
the short bow and the killing arrows had completed his bloody butcher
business.
"Oh! I doan't know," remarked Pat, rubbing his chin with his hand, as
though considering some idea that had crept into his active mind.
Of course both lads turned eagerly on their companion. They seemed to
view his few words, and his manner, as suggesting hope.
"You've thought of something, Pat; please tell us what it is, for I do
hope we can find a way to get our share of all this meat," Sandy asked,
anxiously.
"Arrah, now, listen to me, wud yees?" whispered the trapper. "And mebbe
afther all we can sacure what we came out to kerry home, a pack av
juicy mate. D'ye mind that the first young bull I saw a-runnin' off had
an arrow stickin' in his side; but he managed to go some distance afore
droppin' to the ground? Whin I saw him last he was just passin' beyant
the bunch av timber that stands to the lift, it might be a quarrter av
a mile. An', saing as he niver showed up agin, the chances are he fell
there. Me ijee is to worrk around in that quarrter, and whin the hunt
is over, and the reds do be busy skinnin' an' cuttin' up the game, what
is to hinder the three av us from securin' all we want from the carcase
av the young bull as lies out yonder? Sure the trees wull be afther
consalin' us from the eyes av the Injun hunters; an', by the same
token, it may be they niver noticed that animal at all, at all!"
The proposition struck both boys as a splendid one. They nodded their
heads, and their eyes sparkled; and Pat needed nothing more to tell him
that his plan met with their unqualified approbation.
"Hadn't we better be backing out of this then, right away?" suggested
Sandy, always ready to act.
"Yis, but be mighty careful," advised the trapper. "Av we have not
been sane up till now, we doan't want to spile the broth by anny undue
haste. Aisy it is, byes."
So they retreated in the same track by which they had advanced, and
there came no sound or sign to tell them that their presence in the
vicinity had been noticed by the other red hunters, doubtless crouching
likewise in the grass, and waiting for the time to come when they might
burst into view, to take a last shot at the remnant of the buffalo
herd, by that time alarmed and in full flight.
It stood to reason that these eager hunters would have eyes only for
the game, and this accounted for the fact that the palefaces had not
been discovered.
Pat would take no unnecessary chances, however, daring though he was by
nature. He felt a weight upon his shoulders, since he had been trusted
with the responsibility of Mr. Armstrong's two sons; and wished to
account for them both when they came to the boat again.
By degrees, after going back to the timber belt, they managed to move
around until they had reached a point directly behind the patch of
trees to which Pat had called their attention a while previously.
"I saw something there that looked like a buffalo on the ground,"
whispered Sandy, after they had been crawling forward again for several
minutes.
"It's all right!" declared Pat. "The young bull niver pulled out at
all. And 'twas his carcase ye saw, sure. We're in great luck, so we be,
lads."
"Oh! listen to that!" exclaimed Sandy, as a series of wild yells broke
out.
"The game is ended, and the balance of the herd has taken off,"
declared Bob.
They raised their heads to watch, and it was a sight well worth seeing,
with the lumbering buffalo dashing away in a compact mass, and here and
there an Indian brave popping up from the long grass, to discharge his
arrow at the fleeing animals.
But they did not seem to drop any, as the distance was too great; so
presently they could be seen hurrying back toward the spot where quite
a number of slain animals awaited their attention.
"There must be one to every brave," declared Bob.
"So much the better," remarked Pat; "av it kapes thim busy for the nixt
hour or so, while we sacure our mate. This way, lads, and kape quiet on
yer lives."
They made their way to the side of the fallen young bull, and Sandy's
eyes glistened when he realized what a piece of good luck had come
their way; when it might just as well have been a tough old fellow they
were given the chance to carve.
Pat posted each of the boys at a certain spot to keep watch. They were
to give him a signal if any of the red hunters approached to look up
the animal which had fallen behind the patch of trees, and which had
undoubtedly been marked by their keen, all-seeing eyes.
There were only about nine of the Indians, Sandy had said as he left
his companions; and his tone told Bob how he must be figuring on their
chances, should the adventure wind up in a fight; for Sandy would never
consent to abandon such a fine store of buffalo meat, if it could
possibly be avoided.
From the spot where he was posted Bob could easily see the Indians
working over the slain animals that had fallen before the deadly
arrows of the hunter who had made use of the skin of a wolf, and kept
to the leeward of the herd, in order that they might not catch his
scent, and take the alarm.
He could not but feel a certain thrill as he watched them work, knowing
that, if they dreamed of the presence of the hated palefaces near
by, they would only too quickly drop their operations, and go on the
war-path, looking for scalps.
And yet Bob would have been glad to have had an opportunity to watch
how the whole process of curing the meat was carried out, because he
always felt a great interest in such things.
He lay there for a very long time, it seemed to him. At least on three
separate occasions he feared the time had come when discovery could
not be avoided, and that one of the busy braves meant to look for the
bull that had fallen further off than any of the rest. But, on each
occasion, it proved to be a false alarm, and Bob found no need of
whistling like a quail to warn Pat, so that the trapper might be on his
guard.
And then, when Bob was beginning to be very nervous, under the belief
that discovery could not now be long delayed, he caught the whistle of
a gopher, thrice repeated. This had been the signal by means of which
Pat would let the boys know he had completed his task, and that they
were to join him without delay.
So Bob quickly crawled back, at times taking to his heels, and bending
low, so as to keep under the curtain of long grass.
He arrived at just the same time as Sandy; and they were delighted to
find that the expert Pat had not only succeeded in cutting up the young
bull, but had three packs of the best portions of the meat ready to be
transported.
Making use of the trees as a means to hide their retreat, the three
whites succeeded in getting away without attracting the notice of the
Indian buffalo hunters. Pat had purposely blinded the trail, as he came
along last of all. He hoped that, when one of the Indians approached
the spot, and saw that the bull had already been attended to, he would
turn around without making an examination, under the belief that
another of the band had been ahead of him.
Something of the sort must really have happened, for, though the boys
kept on the alert for half an hour, listening, and expecting to catch
shrill yells of anger from the back trail, nothing of the kind came
to pass. And more than once Bob saw Sandy start when he heard a bird
rustle the grass near by, as though he half expected to see a feathered
head thrust up, and come face to face with an enraged Indian warrior.
They reached in safety the spot where the flatboat was tied up, and
great was the rejoicing of the entire company at sight of the toothsome
burdens the three hunters carried on their backs. Around the little
fire that afternoon the story was told of the wolf that handled a bow
with such deadly accuracy; and the Yankee boy, Amos Terry, who was
something of a greenhorn concerning all woodcraft, sat there with his
eyes "as big as saucers," as Sandy expressed it, hardly knowing whether
to believe the tale or not.
But Pat was a little uneasy concerning the possible coming of the
Indians, and made up his mind to keep an extra careful watch that night.
Taken all in all, the members of the company were delighted with things
as they found them. Mr. Armstrong had discovered that the soil was of
wonderful fertility, entirely different from that of the Ohio hills
where their first home had been located; the women were pleased with
the countless wild flowers that dotted the long grass of the level
prairie; while Sandy and Bob already believed that the region near the
Mississippi must be like the Indian "Happy Hunting Grounds," and that
game would be three times as abundant as they had ever known in the
past.