BUFFALO.
"Hugh," said Jack, as they sat at breakfast one morning, "oughtn't we to
see some buffalo pretty soon? We've been seeing a lot of sign, and it
seems to me that it's growing fresher all the time."
"That's so, son," answered Hugh; "it is growing fresher, and I believe
that we're liable to see buffalo most any day now. Maybe we'll see some
to-day. You took notice that the sign has been growing fresher all the
time, but I don't know if you saw that these buffalo are moving just
about the same way we are. Of course they ain't travelling; they're just
kind o' feeding along, but if you watch the tracks we pass to-day,
you'll see that the most of 'em are pointing just about the way we're
going. Now, we've been travelling right smart and fast, not stopping for
anything, ever since we first struck the sign. When we first saw it, it
was right old. Now it's fresh. That means that we are following up the
buffalo, and catching up to 'em, and I wouldn't be surprised if we were
to see some before we camp to-night." Hugh stopped speaking, filled his
pipe, and leaning over toward the fire, picked up a brand and lighted
it. "Well," he went on, "if you'll saddle up now, I'll fix up these
dishes, and make up the packs, and we'll move along."
Jack went out and brought in the horses, and tied them up to some
bushes. Then he put the saddles on the pack horses, and drew the cinches
up on them well, but did not tie them. Next he saddled Hugh's horse, and
then his own, in each case leaving the latigos untied. By the time he
had returned to the fire, Hugh had made up his packs, and when Jack saw
that they were ready, he brought up the pack horses, one by one, and
after re-cinching each animal, the loads were speedily in position. The
two riders mounted, and they moved off in a single file, Hugh leading,
the pack horses following and Jack as usual bringing up in the rear on
Pawnee.
All through the morning they travelled on over the gray prairie.
Antelope were plenty and tame, and often ventured within shot of the
train, but they had meat in one of the packs, and neither Hugh nor Jack
felt like molesting the pretty animals. There were many flowers to be
seen on the prairie; bunches of brilliant red or yellow cactus and white
poppy bells swinging in the wind. Now and then, in some low places,
where it was too damp for the sage to grow, they saw patches of blue and
pink lupine, and occasionally a bunch of white flowers, which Hugh had
told Jack was the loco; a plant which poisons animals that eat it.
About noon Hugh halted near a little hill, and said to Jack, "Let's
leave the pack horses here to feed, and ride up on top of that bluff. I
think maybe we'll see something." They did so, and when they reached its
crest, Hugh, after looking over the landscape for a few moments,
pointed away to the north, and said, "Buffalo." Jack looked hard, but
could see nothing that looked like a buffalo, but far off on the distant
hillside he saw some tiny black specks, which he knew must be the
longed-for animals.
"Now, Hugh," he said, "how do you know that those are buffalo, and not
cattle or horses?"
"Well," said Hugh, "to tell you the truth, I don't believe I can tell
you how I know, but I know it all the same. In the first place, in this
range of country where we are now, there ain't any cattle or any horses,
without they're Indian horses. Now, of course it might be such a thing
that there'd be a little bunch of Indian horses scattered out on the
hill-side like that, and all of 'em dark coloured animals, but I don't
believe it. I wouldn't look to see horses in such a place as that;
they're too far from any stream, and they don't look right for horses.
At the same time, they're too far off for me to tell by their shape or
the way they act that they ain't horses. But you keep on, and before the
day's over, we'll see more buffalo, and close to us, too; and maybe
before this trip's over, you'll get to know buffalo when you see 'em as
far off as that, even if you can't tell how it is you know what they
are."
Two or three miles beyond this they stopped at a little stream, where
there were a few trees, and unpacked their animals and turned them out
to graze, while they built a fire and cooked a meal. After they had
eaten, and prepared the packs again, Hugh said, "Now, we'll let these
horses eat for an hour longer before packing up, and then we'll start,
and if we have to, we can make quite a long drive before night." They
made themselves comfortable under the shade of the tree, and presently
Hugh said to Jack, "Son, do you mind the lecture I gave you about
hunting, when you first came out into this country, more than a year
ago? That was the day you killed your first antelope, I think."
"Yes, of course I remember, Hugh," replied Jack. "I didn't understand
everything that you told me then, but I've remembered it all a good many
times since, and what you said to me has helped me a whole lot."
"Well," said Hugh, "I expect I did talk a heap that day, but I wanted to
kind o' try and start you on the right road. I mind, though, that while
I was talking, I kept thinking I was kind o' like one of them professors
that we see out in this country sometimes; them fellows that come out to
dig bones, and catch bugs, and all sorts of little lizards, snakes and
other varmints. I heard one of them talking once, and he just kept right
on for two or three hours, telling us about how the earth was made, and
how this used to be water where it is all dry now, and a whole parcel of
things that I didn't understand, and I don't believe anybody else did,
except the man that was talking."
"Well, Hugh," said Jack, "there isn't anybody that knows it all, and
these professors know about bones and bugs, and you know about hunting
and trailing, and fighting Indians. I suppose there ain't any man but
what could teach 'most any other man something."
"That's so, son; you're dead right, but the trouble with most of us is,
we set a heap of store by what we know, and we don't think very much of
what other people know. I expect the smartest men of all is them that's
always anxious to learn, and always a-learning. But what I set out to
say was something about buffalo, and killing buffalo. Now, of course,
you're a boy; a pretty sensible boy, I'll allow, but, after all, you're
a boy, and you're liable to get excited. Now, you know, we're travelling
now; we ain't here for pleasure; we're trying to go somewhere; so if we
come on buffalo, right close, sudden, I don't want you to go crazy, and
start off to chase 'em. You're here now, a-helping to take care of this
pack train, and you mustn't lose your packs. You'll have plenty of
chances to kill buffalo; likely you'll have a chance to-day; but when
you start in to kill your first buffalo, see that you go at it right.
Now, a buffalo is awful easy killed. Where they're plenty, you can creep
right up close to 'em, and kill 'em by still hunting, but of course it's
lots more fun to run 'em. You've got a good horse, and he'll take you
right up to any cow that runs on the prairie. When you get a chance to
chase buffalo, remember that you mustn't shoot until you get right up
close to 'em. Ride right up close by the cow's side, and then shoot, and
your horse will turn off a little, so as to get out of the way in case
the cow should charge. You needn't mind your horse at all; he'll take
care of himself, and won't step into any badger hole, or fall with you;
but you've got to look out for your riding, for if a cow turns quick,
and your horse has to whirl quick, you may slide off, if you haven't got
the horse well between your legs. Another thing is, that a buffalo
stands awful high, and you're likely to shoot too high, and put a lot
of bullets into an animal where they won't hurt it a particle. You must
remember that in a buffalo, as in every other animal that I know
anything about, the life lies low. If you're on a horse, you'll be
shooting down, of course, but try to shoot so that the ball will cut the
buffalo only a few inches above the brisket. I've seen lots of young
fellows waste ammunition on buffalo; fellows that could shoot pretty
well, too; only they didn't know where to shoot; they all shot too high.
The boss ribs on a buffalo stick so far up into the air that there's
pretty nigh as much of the animal above its backbone as there is below,
and that's awful deceiving, and tends to make a man shoot high. Now, I
expect likely you'll remember all this that I've told you, and won't
have any trouble at all. You take hold of things about hunting quicker
than any boy I ever saw."
"I'm much obliged to you for telling me this, Hugh, and I'll try hard to
remember it. I expect I'll get excited when I have my first chance to
shoot at a buffalo. They're so big, you see; bigger than anything I ever
had a chance to shoot at."
"Yes," said Hugh, "maybe you'll feel that way the first time or two;
but, Lord! you'll get used to it after a little while, and you'll only
want to kill buffalo when you're hungry. Mind what I tell you, though,
about your riding. I'd hate almightily to see you go flying off your
horse, when you're after a bunch of buffalo, the way you did that time
last summer when you were chasing the wolf."
"That's so," said Jack, "I flew a long way that time, but I hope I'm a
good deal better rider now than I was then."
"Yes," said Hugh, "I expect you are. You ought to be, anyhow. But I
want you to be as careful as you know how. There's been a whole lot of
men killed by chasing buffalo; hooked by them, or had their horses fall
with them, or been thrown a long way, and had their guns driven through
their bodies. I've seen a lot of accidents in my time. Well," he went
on, as he lighted his pipe again, "let's saddle up and move."
As they rode on, through the afternoon, they saw more and more buffalo.
Several bunches that they passed were not more than a half mile from
them, but, though Jack was very anxious to have a shot, he said nothing,
feeling pretty sure that his chance would come before very long. Toward
evening they came to a little stream, flowing through a narrow valley
where there was wood, and a nice grassy flat. Here Hugh halted, and said
to Jack, "I did calculate that we'd go on five or six miles further, to
the main creek, but I guess maybe we'll stop here and make camp, and
then, before we eat, we'll ride out a little way and see if we can't
kill some meat. That last antelope is pretty near gone, and it might be
such a thing that we could kill a buffalo."
"All right," said Jack, "that will suit me first class."
They took the packs off the horses, picketed them out, and then,
tightening their saddles, rode up out of the creek valley, and toward
some rough, broken buttes that rose from the prairie two or three miles
to the west. Half an hour's riding brought them to a broken country,
and, dismounting at the foot of a hill rather taller than the others,
they climbed on foot to its summit. Here Jack saw a curious sight. To
the west, many buffalo could be seen; some of them quite near; others,
far off. All of them were moving; not running, but walking along in
single file, one after another, like so many cows moving through a
pasture.
"Why, what are they doing, Hugh?" asked Jack; "and where in the world
are they going? They seem to be all travelling, but in different
directions. I supposed that when buffalo wanted to go anywhere they all
ran off in a great crowd, but these are walking along slowly, but
walking as if they were determined to go somewhere."
"That's just what they're doing, son; they're going to water, and each
one of them bunches that you see is heading right straight for the
nearest water. Some of them look like they was going right down to our
camp, and here comes a bunch that are going to pass right close to us.
Do you see that trail that passes right at the foot of this hill? Well,
that's a buffalo trail, and if I ain't mightily mistaken, them nearest
buffalo is going to follow that trail, and come right close by where we
left the horses. We'll go down and get 'em and bring 'em up a little
further, behind that shoulder, and sit by 'em until the buffalo come,
and then you'll have a chance to kill one, and we'll have some fat cow
to eat to-night."
"That will be great," said Jack; "of course I'd rather chase them, but
then, as you said to-day, we ain't out here for fun, and I don't suppose
it would be good sense to run Pawnee down, chasing buffalo. He's been
travelling all day, and it wouldn't do him any good to give him a race
now."
"That's good sense, son. Take care of your horse, and take care of your
gun, always, in this country. When we get to the Piegan camp there'll be
a whole lot of chances to run buffalo, and to run 'em with a fresh
horse. It would be just foolishness to do it now. Come on." Hugh led the
way down the hill to the horses, and bringing the animals a little
higher up the hill and so out of sight, they crept over to a shoulder,
from which they could plainly see the buffalo trail passing only forty
yards distant. They had not sat there long when Hugh touched Jack, and
motioned with his head, and, as he looked, Jack saw one buffalo after
another come in sight around the point of the bluff until twelve were
visible. "It's a little bunch of cows," said Hugh, in a low voice, "and
five of 'em have got calves. There's two heifers, and one of those you
want to kill. Take the last one, or else the one that's third from the
end; they're the two heifers, and they'll be fat, and first-class meat.
Take notice of these cows; you'll see their horns are slim and turned
in. A bull's horns are a great deal stouter, and don't turn in near so
much. Now, pick your animal, and get ready, and when she's opposite to
us, shoot. Try not to kill one of the old cows; she won't be half as
good meat as the heifer."
Jack lay there and watched, and his heart was beating fast, as the
buffalo approached. They seemed to walk slowly and heavily, kicking up a
good deal of dust, their beards almost sweeping the ground. The little
calves, to Jack's great surprise, were reddish in colour, and seemed to
have no hump at all. In fact, they looked like little red farm calves.
They were strong and active, and seemed to be very playful, sometimes
running short races, away from the trail, and again coming back and
falling into the line behind their mothers. Though to the eye the
buffalo seemed ponderous and slow, it took them but a little time to get
up opposite where Jack sat. When they had done so he settled himself and
began to aim, and Hugh said, "Remember now, low down, and a leetle bit
ahead of where you want to hit; they're moving, you know." Jack fired,
and all the buffalo stopped and looked about them. "Did I hit her?" said
Jack. "I think I must have."
"Yes," said Hugh, "you hit her, and you hit her right. She'll be down in
a minute, and then I think the others will go on."
In a moment or two the heifer at which Jack had fired walked slowly out
of the trail, and lay down, and the other buffalo, after looking about,
started on, and in a few moments had disappeared behind another rise of
ground.
"Well," said Hugh, "let's go and get the horses, I expect likely she'll
be dead by the time we get to her." Jack was trembling a little when he
rose and followed Hugh, but by the time he was in the saddle he had
cooled down again. They rode toward the heifer, which had fallen over on
her side and was moving still--not quite dead. Jack was about to ride up
to her, when Hugh said, "Hold on! Wait a little; give her a chance to
die." They dismounted at a little distance from the animal, and walked
around to her head, but still fifteen or twenty yards distant.
"Now, I have often told you," said Hugh, "not to go up to an animal
without a load in your gun, and I'll tell you now, never to go up to a
buffalo unless you're sure it's dead. I was hunting once with a partner,
trying to get some meat to take into the railroad, and we shot three or
four buffalo from a stand, and then went down and drove the others off,
and started in to butcher. There was one cow that was moving a little,
and my partner went up to her to cut her throat, and when he had nearly
got to her, she jumped up and ran against him, and threw up her head,
and then fell down dead, and when I got to him I found that one horn had
split him open from the waist to the throat, and he died while I stood
looking at him. That's always made me feel scared of a wounded buffalo.
That cow keeps on moving. Just fire a shot into her head, just in front
of the horns, and above the eyes." Jack did so, and the cow stretched
out her legs and lay still. "Lots of people will tell you," said Hugh,
"that you can't kill a buffalo by shooting it in the forehead. They say
that the skull's so thick, and the hide and the hair makes such a mat
that a ball won't go into it. Don't you ever believe them. If you shoot
a buffalo in the forehead, and aim your gun right, so's to hit its
brain, you kill it every time."
They took as much of the meat of the heifer as their horses could carry,
and returned to camp.