Lost on the Prairie.
The next morning, by the time the sun had risen, the travelers had
eaten their breakfast, and were again on the move. The entire party
was in high spirits. The trappers laughed and joked with each other,
and pointed out to Mr. Winters the familiar objects that met their eye
on every side, while the boys galloped on before, and in a few moments
had left the wagon far behind. Their horses were in excellent trim,
and bounded along over the prairie as if some of their riders’ spirits
had been infused into them.
“I say, Frank,” said Archie, at length, suddenly drawing in his rein,
“what if Dick was mistaken about the Indians all being gone, and a
party of Comanches should suddenly pounce down on us? Wouldn’t we be
in a fix? I declare, I see an Indian now,” he added; and, as he
spoke, he pointed toward an object that could be dimly seen moving
along the summit of a distant swell.
“That’s something, that’s a fact,” said Frank, gazing in the direction
indicated; “but it don’t look like that Indian we saw the other day.
If it was a Comanche, he wouldn’t move about and show himself so
plainly. There’s another--and another,” he continued, as several more
objects came over the brow of the hill. “Let us ride up a little
nearer. If they are Indians, we can easily reach the wagon before they
can overtake us.”
“Well, come on,” said Archie. “If we should get into a fight all by
ourselves, and come safely out of it, it would be something to talk
about, wouldn’t it?”
The boys rode cautiously toward the objects, which were still
increasing in number, holding themselves in readiness to beat a hasty
retreat in case they should prove to be Indians, until they had gone
about half a mile, when Frank suddenly exclaimed:
“They are antelopes!”
“Are they?” asked Archie, excitedly. “Let’s shoot one of ’em,” and,
springing from his saddle, he began to unbuckle his halter and hobble
his horse, as he had seen the trapper do on a former occasion.
Frank followed his example, and then, securing their rifles, they
threw themselves on their hands and knees, and began to crawl toward
the game, which was fully a mile and a half distant. But that was no
obstacle to the boys then. They would willingly have gone twice that
far to have a shot at an antelope, if for nothing more than to show
the trapper that they were better hunters than he had supposed. It is
true they did not expect to succeed, but the name “antelope killers”
was well worth trying for, and they determined to do their best. They
crawled along slowly and as carefully as possible, pausing now and
then to look over the grass at the animals, which, to their delight,
they found were feeding directly toward them.
“I don’t think it is safe to go much further,” said Frank, after they
had crawled nearly half the distance in this manner. “Let’s stop and
see what we can do.”
“Well,” said Archie. “If you will hold up your handkerchief on your
ramrod, I’ll try and shoot one of them, if they come near enough.”
Frank, in compliance with his cousin’s suggestion, drew his ramrod
from his gun, fastened his handkerchief to it, and, throwing himself
upon his back, carefully raised it above the grass. While in this
position he could not, of course, see the movements of the game; but
Archie kept vigilant watch, and at length whispered:
“They see it! They’re coming!”
The animals had, in reality, caught sight of the handkerchief, and,
after regarding it for a few moments, they began to approach it--a
fine large buck leading the way.
Now the boys knew that the hunt began in earnest. The least awkward
movement on their part--the exposure of the smallest portion of their
bodies, or the slightest noise in the grass--might, as Archie
expressed it, “knock the whole thing in the head.” Frank lay perfectly
quiet, watching the movements of his cousin; and he could tell, by the
expression of his countenance, pretty near what the game was doing.
When the antelopes stopped--which they did every few feet--Archie put
on an exceedingly long face, as if fearful that they were about to
turn and run; and when they approached, the fact would be indicated by
a broad grin and a nervous twitching at the lock of his gun. For
fully half an hour--it seemed much longer to the impatient boys--they
remained in their place of concealment; but at length their patience
was rewarded, for the game was within easy rifle range. In an instant
Archie’s nervousness all vanished, and Frank almost held his breath
when he saw him slowly, inch by inch, raise his gun to his shoulder.
He took a long, steady aim, pulled the trigger, and sprung from the
ground, shouting:
“I’ve got him! I’ve got him!”
Frank was on his feet almost as soon as his cousin, and, to his
delight, saw the leader of the antelopes struggling on the ground,
while the rest of the herd were scampering away at the top of their
speed.
“What will Dick and Bob say now?” exclaimed Archie, who skipped about
as though he were almost beside himself. “What will they--hold
on--hold on--shoot him, Frank!” he shouted. “We’re going to lose him
after all.”
Archie’s shot had not been fatal. The buck was only disabled for a
moment, and, after a few struggles, he succeeded in regaining his
feet, and started to run. Had his cousin been as excited as he was,
they certainly would have had all their trouble for nothing, for
Archie, instead of stopping to reload, dropped his gun and started in
pursuit of the wounded animal, which--although he ran but slowly--was
fast leaving him behind, when Frank, by an excellent shot, again
brought him to the ground. This time the wound was fatal; but Archie,
to put all further attempts at escape out of the question, ran up and
seized the buck by the horns.
“He’s done for now,” said Frank, as he proceeded to reload his rifle;
“I shot him through the head.”
“I see you did,” replied his cousin, still retaining his hold upon the
antelope; “but there’s no knowing what he might do. I wouldn’t trust
him.” And it was not until he had turned the deer over several times,
and fully satisfied himself that he had ceased to breathe, that Archie
released him.
“What will Dick and Bob say now?” he continued, as Frank came up, and
they began to examine their prize, which was much larger than the one
the trapper had killed. “You know they said we couldn’t shoot an
antelope. Now, the next thing is to get him back to the wagon. He’s
too heavy for us to carry, so if you’ll stay here, and watch him and
keep the wolves off, I’ll go back and get the horses.”
Frank agreed to this arrangement, and Archie, after he had found and
reloaded his gun, started off after the horses. He was gone almost two
hours--so long that Frank began to be uneasy; but at length he
appeared, riding post-haste over a neighboring swell, mounted on
Sleepy Sam, and leading Pete by the bridle. As soon as he came within
speaking distance, he exclaimed, with blanched cheeks:
“Frank, we’re lost! I can’t see the wagon any where.”
“Don’t be uneasy,” replied his cousin, who, although thoroughly
alarmed by this announcement, appeared to be perfectly unconcerned.
“Don’t be uneasy.”
“But I haven’t seen the wagon since we left it this morning,”
persisted Archie. “I thought it was close behind us. I tell you we’re
lost.”
“Oh no, I guess not,” answered Frank, as he lifted the antelope from
the ground and placed it on the saddle before his cousin. “The wagon
is no doubt behind some of these hills. Besides, Uncle James won’t be
long in hunting us up.”
“I wouldn’t stay alone on the prairie to-night for any thing,” said
Archie. “I know it wouldn’t be the first time I have camped out, but
then there are no wild Indians in the woods about Lawrence.”
Frank had by this time mounted his horse, and together they set out at
a rapid gallop to find the wagon. The mountain which Dick had pointed
out the night before was plainly visible, and the boys determined to
travel toward it with all possible speed, in hopes that they would
overtake their friends before they halted for the night. Frank thought
the wagon could not be far off, and every hill they mounted he gazed
about him as if fully expecting to discover it; but, after riding an
hour without seeing any signs of it, he began to be a good deal of his
cousin’s opinion, that they were lost. But he made no remark, for he
knew that a good deal depended upon keeping up Archie’s courage.
“We have not been gone from the wagon three hours,” said he, “and they
haven’t had time to get very far away from us. We’ll find them behind
some of these swells. Perhaps we’ll be in time to give them a piece of
our antelope for dinner.”
Archie made no reply, for he derived no encouragement from this; but
he silently followed his cousin, who led the way at a rapid gallop,
riding over this swell, and turning round that, as though he was
perfectly familiar with the ground over which they were traveling. For
two long hours they kept on in this way, almost without speaking, each
time they mounted a hill straining their eyes in every direction, in
the hope of discovering the wagon. Sometimes they were almost certain
they saw its white cover in the distance; but upon taking a second
look, it proved to have been merely a creation of their imagination;
and Frank began to be discouraged. To add to their discomfort, the
heat was almost intolerable, and they began to be tortured with
thirst. Their animals also appeared to be suffering, for they paid
less attention to the spur, and were constantly jerking at the reins,
and endeavoring to go in a direction almost contrary to that which the
boys desired. The hours seemed lengthened into ages, and at three
o’clock in the afternoon they had seen no signs of the wagon, and the
mountains appeared to be as far off as ever.
“There’s no use talking,” said Archie, at length, reining in his
horse, “I can’t stand this any longer, I’m so thirsty.”
“But what else can we do?” asked Frank, in a husky voice, for his
tongue was so parched that he could scarcely talk plainly. “We can’t
find our friends, or water either, by staying here. We _must_ go on.”
As he spoke, he again spurred his horse into a gallop, Archie, as
before, following after him, now and then looking down at the
antelope, which lay across his saddle--and which he considered to be
the cause of all their trouble--as though he heartily wished him safe
among the others of the herd. Two miles more were passed, but still no
signs of water. The idea of finding the wagon had now given away to a
desire to discover some stream where they might quench their thirst,
which was becoming almost unbearable. But the dry, parched prairie
stretched away on each side of them, while in front loomed the
mountains, apparently as distant as when they started in the morning.
Their horses grew more and more restive. Upon applying the spur, they
would gallop for a few yards, and then settle down into a slow walk,
turning their heads and pulling at the reins as if anxious to go in a
contrary direction. This set Frank to thinking. He had often read of
the remarkable sagacity sometimes displayed by the horse--how the
animal had been known to carry his lost rider safely into the midst of
his friends--and, turning to his cousin, he exclaimed:
“Archie, I’m going to let Pete take his own course. Both the horses
want to go back, so let’s see where they will take us to. We can’t be
in a much worse fix than we are now.”
As he spoke, he threw the reins on his horse’s neck, and the animal,
finding himself at liberty, at once turned, and, pricking up his ears,
galloped off exactly at right angles with the course they had been
pursuing. Archie, too dispirited to raise any objections, followed his
cousin’s example, and the old buffalo hunter, which, during the last
two hours, had traveled with his head down, as if scarcely able to
take another step, snuffed the air and bounded off at a rapid pace.
For an hour the animals tore along at a tremendous rate; but
discovering no signs of the wagon, Frank was rapidly losing faith in
the sagacity of his horse, when, as they came suddenly around the base
of a swell, they found before them a long line of willows. Toward this
the animals made their way with increased speed, carrying their riders
through the trees into a stream of clear, running water.