A Buffalo Hunt.
The next morning, after breakfast, the boys seated themselves by the
fire, and while Frank mended his bridle, which Pete had broken the day
before, Archie was endeavoring to conjure up some plan for the day’s
amusement. Even in that country, which abounded with game, the boys
were at a loss how to pass the time, for the grizzlies had interfered
with their arrangements considerably. If they went hunting in the
mountains, they might come across another bear; and their recent
experience with those animals had shown them that the hunters were
sometimes the hunted. They had no desire for further adventures with
the monsters, and they had at last decided that they would take a
gallop over the prairie, when they were startled by the clatter of
horses’ hoofs in the creek, and old Bob--who, at daylight, had
started out on a “prospecting” expedition--galloped into camp,
breathless and excited. The boys very naturally cast their eyes toward
the prairie, to see if he were not followed by a grizzly; but the
sight of one of those animals never affected the old trapper in that
manner. He had seen what he considered larger and more profitable
game.
“Dick,” he exclaimed, drawing up his horse with a sudden jerk--“Dick,
have some buffaler hump for dinner?”
“Sartin,” replied the trapper, hastily rising to his feet, and
throwing away his pipe. “In course. Saddle up to onct, youngsters.
We’ll have some game now as is game.”
The announcement that there is a herd of buffaloes in the vicinity,
always creates an uproar in a hunter’s camp, and there was no
exception to the rule this time. The boys had never seen the trapper
so eager; and even Mr. Winters, generally so cool and deliberate, was
not so long in saddling his horse as usual. This, of course, had an
effect upon the boys; but, as is always the case, their hurry
occasioned them a considerable loss of time. Archie could not find his
bridle, and Frank, in his eagerness, broke his saddle-girth; and, to
increase their excitement, the others, as soon as they had saddled
their horses (Dick rode one of the mules) and secured their weapons,
rode off, leaving them alone. Archie, after a lengthy search, found
his bridle in the wagon, and Frank at last succeeded in mending his
saddle-girth with a piece of buckskin. The boys’ rifles stood together
against a tree, close by, with all the accouterments hanging to the
muzzles. Frank’s being a common “patch” rifle, he, of course, had a
powder-horn and bullet pouch, while Archie carried the ammunition for
his breech-loader in a haversack. The latter was ready first, and
hastily seizing the gun that came first to his hand, secured Frank’s
instead of his own, and, putting his horse into a gallop, rode down
the bed of the creek, throwing the powder-horn and bullet pouch over
his shoulder as he went. Frank was ready a moment afterward, and
finding his own rifle gone, he, of course, took Archie’s. Although he
thought nothing of it at the time, he afterward looked upon it as a
lucky circumstance. In addition to their rifles, the boys each had two
revolvers, which they carried in their holsters. Frank overtook the
hunters at the edge of the prairie, where they had stopped to wait
for him, and to hold a consultation. The high swells that rose in
every direction shut them out from the view of the game, but old Bob
knew exactly where to go to find it. As they went along, at an easy
gallop, Dick rode up beside the boys, and, addressing himself to
Frank, said:
“Now, youngster, this’ll be new bisness to you, so don’t be keerless.
You must ’member that your hoss ar’ as green as a punkin in buffaler
huntin’, an’, if you let him get stampeded, he’ll take you cl’ar to
Mexico afore he stops.”
“Stampeded!” repeated Frank. “Does a horse ever get stampeded with
buffaloes?”
“Sartin he do,” answered the trapper, with a laugh; “an’ if you ever
get teetotally surrounded by a thousand bellerin’, pitchin’ buffalers,
you’ll say it’s the wust scrape you ever war in. So don’t go too clost
to ’em. If your hoss gets frightened, stop him to onct, and quit
follerin’ ’em.”
Dick was then proceeding to instruct the boys in the manner of hunting
the buffaloes, when old Bob, who had been leading the way, suddenly
came to a halt.
“They’re jest behind that swell,” said he. “Don’t you hear ’em? Now,
we must separate.” Then, in hurried whispers, he pointed out the
station he wished each to occupy, and, after Dick had again cautioned
Frank to keep his horse completely under his control, the boys rode
away in different directions.
When Frank reached his station, he stopped his horse, examined his
rifle, opened his holsters, so that he could readily draw his
revolvers, and waited impatiently for the signal. The hunters were
stationed about a quarter of a mile apart. Old Bob was in the center
of the line. After satisfying himself that they were all in their
places, he waved his hat--the signal for the advance. They all started
at the same moment, and, before Frank could think twice, his horse had
carried him to the top of the swell, and he was in full view of the
game. The sight that met his eyes astonished him.
He had often read of the prairie being black with buffaloes, but he
had never seen it before. The herd was an immense one, and stretched
away in all directions as far as his eye could reach. But he was
allowed no time for admiration, for, the moment the hunters made their
appearance, the buffaloes discovered them, and made off at the top of
their speed, the noise of their hoofs sounding on the hard prairie
like the rolling of thunder. Pete was not afraid of buffaloes, and he
soon carried his master within easy range of the herd, the nearest of
which fell at the crack of his rifle. Too impatient to reload his gun,
Frank drew one of his revolvers, and, forgetting, in his excitement,
all the trapper’s advice, spurred after the flying herd; and, so close
was he to them, that he seldom missed his mark. When he had fired all
the charges, he returned his empty weapon to his holster, and, as he
drew the other, he cast his eye in the direction of his companions,
and was a good deal surprised to discover that some of the herd had
got between him and the rest of his party, and were running almost
side by side with him. On the outer edge of the herd, he saw his
cousin in company with the trappers. Archie had, doubtless, emptied
all his weapons, for he appeared to be engaged in reloading. Further
back, he saw Mr. Winters, who had stopped to “settle” a large bull he
had wounded. He also noticed that the mule, on which Dick was mounted,
being entirely unaccustomed to such business, and frightened by the
discharges of the fire-arms, and the noise of the rushing herd, was
making desperate but unsuccessful attempts to throw his rider. Frank,
taking this all in at a glance, then turned his attention to the
animals nearest him, and soon emptied his second revolver.
All this while Pete had been running with the bridle hanging loose on
his neck; now, as Frank gathered up the reins, he noticed, for the
first time, that he was going at a rate of speed he had never before
accomplished. This, however, did not alarm him; but, seeing that he
was leaving his companions behind, he thought he would slacken his
pace and wait for them to come up. He drew in the reins, but it had no
effect on the horse, which, looking back over his shoulder, as if
frightened at something that was pursuing him, bounded off faster than
ever. Taking a firmer hold of the reins, Frank pulled again with all
his strength, but to no purpose. Had he been at sea, in an open boat,
without rudder, sails, or oars, he could not have been more helpless
than he was at that moment. His horse, perfectly unmanageable, was
running away with him! In an instant, the thought flashed through
Frank’s mind, that he was in the very position the trapper had so
emphatically cautioned him to avoid. But still he was not frightened,
until he cast his eyes behind him, and, to his utter dismay,
discovered that the herd had closed in on all sides of him. Around his
horse was a clear space of perhaps a hundred yards in diameter, which
was slowly but surely growing smaller, as the frightened animals
pressed and crowded against each other. On every side he saw a mass of
horns, and tails, and shaggy shoulders, which, like a wall, shut him
away from his companions. Away off to the right, he saw the trappers,
Archie, and Mr. Winters, no longer pursuing the game, but gazing after
him, and throwing their arms wildly about. If they shouted, Frank did
not hear what they said, for the noise of that multitude of hoofs
would have drowned the roar of Niagara. They could not assist him,
neither could he help himself. That very morning the trapper had told
him of seeing a man trampled to death by a herd of buffaloes, and now
a similar fate was in store for himself. The appalling thought seemed
to deprive him of the last particle of strength, for he reeled in his
saddle, and only caught the mane of his horse just in time to save
himself from falling to the ground. But, as was always the case with
Frank, when placed in situations of extreme danger, this burst of
weakness quickly passed. While he had life, he could not relinquish
all hope of being able to bring himself safely out of even this, the
most perilous position in which he had ever found himself. He could
determine upon no particular plan for escape, so long as he was
surrounded by those frantic buffaloes. The only course he could pursue
was to compel Pete to keep pace with the herd. But this plan did not
place him out of the reach of danger. He knew that buffaloes, when
stampeded, turn aside for nothing. Neither hills nor rivers check
their mad flight, and any living thing that stands in their way is
trampled to death. Even the exhausted members of the herd, unable to
keep pace with the others, are borne down and crushed to a jelly. They
neither seem to hear or see any thing; all their senses being merged
into the desire to get as far as possible from the object that has
excited their alarm; and they seldom stop until completely exhausted.
Frank knew this, and the question that arose in his mind was, “How
long could his horse stand that rapid gallop?” He appeared to be as
thoroughly frightened as the buffaloes, and it was not at all probable
he would show any inclination to stop, so long as he saw that shaggy
mass behind him, or could hear the noise of their hoofs, which sounded
like the rumbling of an immense cataract. The more he thought of his
critical situation, the firmer was his belief that there was but one
way open to him, and that was to keep ahead of the animals, which were
behind him. Having determined upon this, he again cast his eyes toward
the place where he had last seen his friends. They were gone, and
Frank was alone in the midst of that multitude of frantic buffaloes.
When the trappers had discovered Frank’s situation, they knew it was
out of their power to assist him. After following him a short
distance, in the vain hope of making him hear the words of advice and
encouragement which they sent after him with all the strength of their
lungs, they had fallen back out of sight. Dick had advised this
course, “Fur,” said he, “the longer we foller ’em, the faster they’ll
run. They won’t stop till they’re clean gin out. If the youngster
stays on his hoss, an’ keeps ahead of ’em till they’re a leetle over
their fright, he’s all right.”
Dick, however, did not intend to leave his young companion altogether.
At his request, Archie gave up Sleepy Sam to him, and, after assuring
the others, who were in a state of intense excitement and alarm, that
he would certainly find Frank and bring him back safe, he rode off in
the direction the buffaloes had gone, while the rest of the party
returned to collect their game.
Meanwhile, Pete, rendered frantic by the deafening noise, was carrying
Frank over the prairie at a terrific pace. The young hunter’s alarm
had somewhat abated, and he appeared as calm as though he was merely
taking a ride for amusement; but his mind was exceedingly busy, and,
in a very short space of time, he lived over his whole life. He cast
frequent and anxious glances behind him, but could see no change for
the better in his situation. The buffaloes, as far as his eye could
reach, pushed and crowded against each other, apparently as frightened
as ever, but taking no notice whatever of the horseman in their midst.
The space around his horse was gradually growing smaller, which made
Frank shudder when he thought what the result would be if they should
close in upon him.
One hour passed, and still the frightened herd dashed on, with the
frantic horse and his helpless rider in their midst, without, in the
least, slackening their pace. Pete was evidently in distress. That mad
gallop was telling on him severely; but, while those buffaloes were
behind him, all attempts to stop him would have been useless. Another
hour glided by, and, to his joy, Frank discovered that the animals
behind him were scattering, and that the line of his pursuers was
growing thinner. Those in front still ran as fast as ever--no doubt,
pushed onward by those behind them, while those in the extreme rear
were evidently getting over their fright. Frank looked again and
again, to satisfy himself that he was not mistaken, and he was
confident that, if his horse could hold out half an hour longer, the
buffaloes, slowly dividing right and left, would leave a way of escape
open to him. The minutes seemed lengthened into hours; but his
pursuers were now rapidly taking up their places on the flanks of the
herd, and, in a short time, not a buffalo was to be seen behind him.
Again Frank pulled the reins, and Pete, almost exhausted, and no
longer hearing that terrific noise behind him, willingly stopped.
Frank, filled with gratitude for his escape, threw himself from the
saddle, just as the last of the buffaloes were disappearing over a
neighboring swell.