THE HOUSE IS FINISHED--BUILDING CORRALS--THE HOUNDS--THEIR
FIGHT WITH A LYNX--ITS HIDE GIVEN TO GERTRUDE--THE
IMMENSE HERD OF BUFFALO--CAPTURE FOUR CALVES--GET THEIR
PONIES IN A STRANGE MANNER--BREAKING THEM
IT was quite late in the season, towards the end of October, when the
stone and log cabin was completed and ready for occupancy. The family
had meanwhile lived in their big tent which they had brought with them
from the Missouri River. They had carried in their wagons bedding and
blankets, a table and several chairs, enough to suffice until the
arrival of their other goods, which had been stored at Leavenworth while
they were hunting for a location. At the end of two months after their
settlement on the Oxhide, a freight caravan arrived with their things,
much of it the old-fashioned furniture from the homestead in Vermont.
This caravan was en route to Fort Union, New Mexico, the trail to which
military post ran along the bank of the Smoky Hill River, not more than
two miles from the ranche.
Joe and Rob were constantly busy helping their father to make matters
snug for the winter, building a corral for the cows, a stone stable for
the horses, and a chicken house for the fowls, of which they had more
than a hundred, Plymouth rocks and white leghorns, the best layers in
the world. Up to that time they had not had as much time for sport as
they wished for. They had been kept too busy, until long after the cold
weather set in, when all the streams were frozen over and the woods were
bare and brown.
A near neighbor who had taken a fancy to the bright lads when they first
arrived in the country, had given them two fine greyhounds, which they
named Bluey and Brutus; the former on account of his color, and the
other because they had recently been interested in Shakespeare's play of
"Julius Cæsar," which their father had read to them. With these
magnificent animals they had lots of fun during the long months of the
winter, hunting jack-rabbits, digging coyotes out of their holes in the
ledge above the banks of the creek, or fighting lynxes and coons in the
timber.
One bright day they were out among the hills with their hounds, which
had run far in advance of their young masters, when suddenly the boys'
ears were startled by a terrible commotion in a wooded ravine about a
hundred yards ahead of them. The dogs were barking furiously, sometimes
howling in pain, and they could see the dust flying in great clouds. In
a few moments all was still; the turmoil had ceased, a truce evidently
having been patched up between the belligerents. The boys hurried on and
presently came to a sheltered spot where the timber had been apparently
blown down by a small tornado many years before; and there as they came
up to it, in a triangle formed by the trunks of three fallen trees, a
space about ten feet square, they saw the hounds holding a great lynx at
bay! The cat was standing in the apex of the triangle, crowding her body
as closely as she could against the timber so that the dogs were unable
to attack her without getting a scratch from her sharp claws. Her hair
was all bristling up with battle, and the dogs had evidently tried
several times to drive her out of her almost impregnable position, but
each attempt had ended in themselves being driven back discomfited. As
soon as the hounds saw the boys, however, their courage rose, and Bluey,
the oldest dog, at an encouraging "Sic 'em!" from Joe, made a sudden
dash, caught the ferocious beast by the middle of the back and commenced
to shake her with the awful rapidity for which he was noted, and in a
few seconds she was dropped dead at Joe's feet.
Bluey first became famous as a shaker several months before his
encounter with the lynx. One morning Rob got up very early for some
reason, and went into the chicken house, and as soon as he entered it he
saw a skunk half hidden under one of the beams of the floor. He did not
dare to call Bluey, who was sleeping on a pile of hay a few feet away,
for fear the animal would take the alarm and run off. So he quietly went
to where the dog was, and lifting him bodily in his arms carried him to
the chicken house and held his nose down to the ground so that he could
see or smell the skunk. In an instant that skunk was caught up by the
neck and the life shaken out of him before he could have possibly
realized what was the matter with him.
"By jolly!" said Rob, a favorite ejaculation with him when he was
excited, as he saw the cat lying perfectly still where Bluey had dropped
him. "I say, Joe, what a set of teeth and a strong neck old Bluey must
have to shake anything as he does! Why, if he could take up a man in his
jaws, the fellow would stand no more chance of his life than that lynx!"
"The hound," replied Joe, "has a strong jaw and a powerful neck; but he
lacks the intelligence of some other breeds. His brain is not nearly as
large as that of a Newfoundland, a setter, pointer, or even a poodle.
Hounds like Bluey and Brutus run by sight alone; they have no nose, and
the moment they cannot see their game they are lost. You have often
noticed that, Rob, when a rabbit gets away from them in the long grass
or in the corn stalks. They will jump up and down, completely bewildered
until they catch sight of the animal again. Now, with the other breed of
hounds, they hunt by scent; the moment they get wind of anything they
run with their noses close to the ground and commence to howl. The
greyhound, on the contrary, makes no noise at all."
Joe skinned the lynx, assisted by Rob, and after throwing the carcass in
the ravine where the battle had been fought, slowly walked back to the
ranche, followed by the dogs, that kept close to their heels, tired and
sore from the struggle just ended.
"Let us give the hide to Gert after we tan it, to put at the side of her
bed; you know she is fond of such things," said Rob.
"All right," replied Joe. "We'll do it, and if we have good luck in
getting other animals, we'll just fill her room with skins. Won't that
be jolly?"
Mr. Thompson had but two teams of horses on the ranche, and they could
not often be spared from work, for the mere amusement of the boys. It
was a constant source of regret to them that they did not have ponies of
their own. On their way home the oft-repeated subject came up again.
Both Joe and Rob felt keenly that they were obliged to go where they
were sent, or desired to go themselves, on foot. How to obtain the
coveted little creatures was a source of continual worry to them.
"I do wish that we had ponies," began Rob for the hundredth time, "so
that we could go anywhere in a hurry; don't you, Joe?"
"Father would buy them for us if he felt that he could afford it; and he
means to as soon as he can see his way clear. I heard him tell mother
so, several times when she wished that we had 'em," replied Joe.
"Maybe," continued he, "some band of friendly Indians will come along
after a while; it's nearly time for the Pawnees to start out on their
annual buffalo hunt. When they come up here, we may be able to trade 'em
out of a real nice pair. They are always eager for a 'swap'; so old man
Tucker told me the other day, and he is an old Indian trader and
fighter. He has lived on the plains and in the mountains for more than
forty years; so he knows what he is talking about."
"Golly! couldn't we have lots of fun," he continued, "with old Bluey and
Brutus, after jack-rabbits and wolves, if we only had something to
ride?"
"Couldn't we, though!" answered Rob. "I tell you, Joe, it's awful hard
work to climb over these hills on foot; we can't begin to keep up with
the dogs; can't get anywhere in sight of 'em. You know that, and I just
bet that we lose lots of game; don't you?"
"Oh! I know it," said Joe; "for the hounds become discouraged when they
find themselves so far away from us. Often, when I'm out alone with
them, Brutus will come back to hunt me instead of hunting rabbits.
Sometimes I can't get him to go on after Bluey; he, the old rascal is
more cunning; he gets many a rabbit we never see, and eats it. That is
what makes him so much fatter than Brutus, though he does twice as much
running. Did you ever think of that, Rob?"
That night when the tired boys went to bed, they little dreamed that
they were to have something to ride sooner than their fondest hopes had
flattered them, and from an entirely different source than the Indians.
Before the sun's broad disc rose above the Harker Hills next morning,
although its rays had already crimsoned the rocky crests of the buttes
which bounded the little valley of the Oxhide on the west, Rob had
risen without disturbing his brother. He was always an early riser; he
loved the calm, beautiful hours that usher in the day, and was the first
one of all the family out of bed on the ranche.
He took the tin wash basin from its hook outside of the kitchen door,
and started for the spring, only a few yards away, to wash himself. Just
as he arrived there, chancing to look towards the hills, he saw that the
whole country, upland and bottom alike, was black with buffaloes. In his
excitement, he threw down the basin, and ran back to the house as fast
as his legs could carry him. He rushed into his father's room, and
unceremoniously seizing him by the shoulder, waking him from a sound
slumber, shook him, and shouted as loud as he was able:--
"Father, get up! Father, get up! the whole country is alive with
buffaloes, and the nearest one is not a quarter of a mile away. Quick!
father."
Mr. Thompson roused himself, and instantly got out of bed and dressed
himself quicker than he had ever done since he had lived on the ranche.
He threw on only clothes enough to cover him, for he had already caught
some of his boy's enthusiasm.
He told Rob to go to the closet, bring him a dozen bullets and his
powder-flask, while he commenced to wipe out the barrels of his two
old-fashioned rifles and the Spencer carbine, that always hung on a set
of elk antlers fastened to the wall of his bed-chamber.
As Rob had declared, the whole region was literally dark with a mighty
multitude of the great shaggy monsters, grazing quietly toward the east.
There were thousands in sight, and for just such a chance Mr. Thompson
had been anxiously waiting to get a supply of meat for the family.
Of course, every member of the household got up as soon as Rob had ended
his noisy announcement. Hurriedly dressing, they rushed out under a
group of trees that grew near the door, and watched Mr. Thompson
crawling cautiously round the rocks as he drew nearer and nearer to the
yet unconscious herd.
In a few moments he was lost to sight, and almost immediately they saw
the herd raise their heads simultaneously. The family then knew that Mr.
Thompson had been discovered by the wary animals, for the alarmed
buffaloes began their characteristic quick, short gallop, and the boys
were fearful that their father had not gotten within range and that
there would be no meat for breakfast. But at the instant they were
expecting to be disappointed, the loud crack of a rifle echoed through
the valley once, twice, then a short silence; three, four times.
As the sound of the discharges died away, they saw their father climb to
the summit of the divide, in full view of all, and wave his hat. Then
they knew he had been successful, and eagerly watched him as he came
slowly down the declivity toward them.
When he had come within hailing distance he cried out that he had killed
four fat cows; one for each shot. Then the boys and girls took off their
hats, and, vigorously waving them, gave three hearty cheers.
Just beyond the cabin and corral, which latter was surrounded by a stone
wall nearly five feet high, was a single hill whose summit was round,
and to which had been given the name of Haystack Mound, because at a
distance it exactly resembled a haystack. When the buffaloes had
started to run eastwardly, this mound cut off some of the animals of the
herd, about three hundred in all, the majority going south of it, the
smaller number north, which brought them near the house. Seeing the
family standing there, they suddenly turned and rushed right over the
corral; the gate was open, and a few dashed through it, but the most of
them leaped over the wall. The buffalo is not easily stopped by any
ordinary obstacle when stampeded; he will go down a precipice, or up a
steep hill; madly rushing on to his destruction, in order to get away
from the common enemy, man.
Rob saw the buffaloes first as they were turned from their course by the
mound, and when they began to rush over the wall of the corral and
through its gate, he shouted to Joe:--
"Come, Joe, let's try to shut some of them in; maybe there are calves
among them. If there are, we can keep 'em in, for the little ones can
never mount that wall on the other side."
Instantly acting on the suggestion, both boys ran as fast as they could
to the corral, and succeeded in closing the entrance just as the last of
the herd was leaping over the far wall.
As Rob had surmised, four calves remained inside, too young to follow
their mothers over the wall. Both he and Joe were nearly wild with
excitement at their luck in having been able to shut the gate in time to
corral the baby buffaloes. They were about to rush to the house to tell
the rest of the family of their wonderful capture, when Joe chanced to
look into the door of the rude shed that was used to shelter the stock
in stormy weather, and saw jammed against the farther wall two animals
that were too small to be full-grown buffaloes, and too large for
calves. It was so dark in the corner where they were that he could not
make out at first what kind of animals they had caught. He called Rob,
who crawled nearer to where the beasts stood huddled against each other,
trembling with fear at their strange quarters.
In another moment, as soon as Rob's eyes became used to the dim light,
he came bounding out with the speed of a Comanche Indian on the
war-path, and catching Joe by the shoulders was just able to gasp:--
"By jolly, Joe, they're real ponies!"
They were so astonished for a few seconds that they stood paralyzed
before they ventured in the shed to take a good look at the little
animals. They boldly went in, and the moment the ponies saw the boys
they made a break for the outside and vainly attempted to dash over the
wall. Their frantic efforts, however, were of no avail; they could not
make it: they were regular prisoners, and Rob and Joe were almost out of
their senses with delight.
After their excitement had somewhat subsided they went to the house and
brought out all the rest of the family to see the cunning little
animals. They lost all their interest in the buffalo calves now that
their brightest dreams of owning ponies of their own were realized.
The diminutive beasts which the boys had so successfully corralled were
sorry-looking animals enough. They were so dirty, thin, angular, and
their coats so rough, so filled with sand-burrs and bull-nettles, that
it was hard to determine what color they were. All the family made a
guess at it. Kate said she thought they were mouse-color, while Gertrude
believed they were gray. Joe thought they were brown, and Rob white. Mr.
Thompson, however, who knew more about horses than his boys, told them
they were bays, but it would take a few days of currying and brushing up
to determine which of the family had guessed correctly. There was
evidently lots of life in them, for they cavorted around the big corral,
prancing like thoroughbreds.
That afternoon, when they had taken care of the buffaloes which Mr.
Thompson shot, and had stretched their robes on the corral wall to cure,
the ponies were roped by Mr. Thompson, who could handle a lariat with
some degree of skill, and halters were put on them. They were nearly of
a size, and both of the same color, so they could hardly be
distinguished from each other, but on a closer examination it was
discovered that one of them had a white spot on his breast. This was the
only apparent difference between them, so the boys drew lots to see
which should have the one with the white breast. Their father selected
two straws, one shorter than the other, and holding them partly
concealed so that only their ends showed, told Rob to draw first. He got
the longer straw, and so became the owner of the pony with the spot of
white on his breast.
In less than two weeks, through kindness and good care, they were
changed into clean, sleek, beautiful bays, just as Mr. Thompson had said
they would be. In a month the boys could ride them anywhere, and the
acme of their happiness was reached.
The animals had strayed from some band of wild horses and had drifted
along with the herd of buffaloes, as was not infrequently the case in
the early days on the great plains.