TRACKING A BUFFALO
"THEY are all snowed under, I fear, Dick!" Roger thus remarked after
they had been struggling along for some time, without seeing a living
thing save some crows that flew over the tree-tops, cawing at the three
palefaces as though scornfully demanding to know what they were doing
so far away from their kind.
"If you mean the small animals, such as rabbits, foxes, mink and such,"
Dick answered, "I suppose it is so, though in time they must work their
way through the snow or die. But elk can move around still. They are
broad-chested and able to bound over or break through the drifts."
"Then why have we failed to see a single elk, or a lone buffalo?" asked
Roger, as though he took it as a personal grievance.
"I can only give a guess at the answer."
"And I'm sure it will be a good guess then, Dick, for you seem to study
the habits of everything that moves, from a beaver building his dam to
the antelope we coax up within gun-shot by waving a red piece of cloth.
What do you think is the reason all big game is lacking about here?"
"The animals must know of some places, more favored than others," Dick
explained, "where the grass stays fairly green throughout the winter.
Snows may come and melt, and the cold waves be tempered by hot springs
every little while."
"Then I wish we could run across another of those boiling springs
before it gets dark, and find a herd of elk hanging around it," and
Roger undoubtedly meant every word he spoke.
As the day had been pretty well along when they managed to break out of
their snow prison they could not hope, before night, to get any great
distance on the way to the big lake.
This being the case, it was really a matter of greater importance to
Dick and his two companions that they succeed in their quest for food
than that they cover any considerable distance before camping.
The prospect of another long night, without a morsel of food to stay
the pangs of hunger, appalled them. Dick himself felt badly about it,
although he managed, as usual, to hide his growing disappointment
better than Roger, partly for the sake of cheering the other up.
"There is one thing none of us seem to have noticed," Dick observed,
after another half hour had crept by; "the clouds have broken, and we
may even see the sun before it sets."
"That is certainly cheering news," Roger returned; "because if we had
another fall of snow on top of this, winter would set in 'for keeps.'
And we did hope to be safe back in camp before that."
Before Dick could make any further remark an exclamation from Mayhew
drew the attention of the two lads. The guide happened to be a little
ahead of them at the time, and was now seen to be beckoning eagerly.
"He must have struck the trail of an elk at last!" exclaimed Roger,
showing all the signs of the eager hunter.
"It looks that way," admitted his cousin, "because he seems to be
pointing down at his feet, as though something he had discovered
interested him."
"Oh! I hope it turns out that way, and that if it is a trail it was not
made by a file of reds, or some of those ugly French trappers."
They were hurrying forward while exchanging these remarks, and speedily
reached Mayhew's side.
"What is it?" asked Roger, immediately.
"A fresh trail!" came the answer, and, looking down, the boys could see
for themselves where some large animal had pushed through the deep snow.
"An elk?" Dick inquired.
"No, a buffalo, I believe," came the reply.
"One or the other, what do we care, so long as we can bag him?"
commented Roger. "So let us be on the move. Every minute counts, with
the sun so low in the western sky, and night coming on."
There was indeed need of haste, for the short afternoon would soon
be gone and, unless they had the good fortune to overtake the stray
buffalo within half an hour or so, all their hopes would be dashed.
They immediately started forward; but the depth of the snow in places
retarded their progress, and Roger often drew long breaths that stood
for impatience, for he dared not vent his feelings aloud.
Dick, who was always observing little things, discovered that the
breeze favored them. The buffalo was heading up into the quarter
whence the wind came. This is the habit of most animals, since it
allows them an opportunity to scent any lurking danger ahead, such as a
panther stretched on a limb and waiting to spring upon them in passing.
Mayhew, who was a first-class tracker, every now and then took a look
at the trail as though to decide what chance they had of overtaking the
struggling buffalo before night fell.
He made no comment, but Dick, who watched his face, felt that the guide
did not feel any too sanguine. Evidently from certain signs, well known
to one of his broad experience, Mayhew knew that they were still some
distance in the rear of the quarry and that, unless for some reason the
lone buffalo chose to stop while on his way to a feeding ground, there
was little likelihood of their coming up with him.
Accordingly, Dick was already making up his mind to "grin and bear it,"
as Uncle Sandy was in the habit of saying when things could not be
changed, and he had to stand for whatever came along.
Roger kept a bright lookout ahead. He hoped to be the first to discover
the huge animal outlined against the white snow. Perhaps Roger had
even figured in his mind just how they would approach as near as they
could, and then, when their presence was discovered, and the buffalo
tried to escape, they would give chase.
If the animal was tired after floundering so long through the deep
drifts they would likely soon be able to come up with him, when a
single shot might do the business. Roger did not forget that their
ammunition was low, and that it would never do for them to be wasteful
of powder and ball.
The sun presently shone forth, but it was close down to the top of the
ridge far to the west, and liable to dip out of sight at any time.
"The sun has set!" said Roger, presently, in a tone of bitter
disappointment.
"And we will have to give up soon, I fear," Dick told him; "because,
while meat would be a fine thing to have, we must first of all think of
passing the night without being frozen to death."
"It is going to be cold, that's a fact," admitted Roger, trying to show
that he could grapple with the situation and not betray weakness.
Mayhew took a last look at the tracks, while the boys awaited his
decision with the deepest anxiety. When they saw the guide shake his
head in the negative they knew luck had gone against them, and that
this meant a supperless camp.
"We have gained a heap on the critter," Mayhew declared, "but he was
still going strong when he passed here."
"How long ago?" asked Dick.
"Nigh on half an hour, I should judge," came the answer.
"Then we must call quits, and devote all our attention to finding a
camp," Dick determined. "With a fire going we will not feel quite so
badly as in the cold."
"Then we mean to keep up a blaze all night, no matter what the risk?"
demanded Roger.
"Of course we can try to hide the fire some," explained the guide; "but
on a cold night like this the reds are not apt to be moving, and the
risk will be slight."
"Well, if the rest can stand it, I ought to, so now let us begin in
earnest to find a camping-ground," and Roger started looking to the
right and left as though he did not want to lose a minute.
Indeed, at that season of the year in this far northern clime, while
the twilight might linger for an hour or more, once the sun had set
they could not see well under the canopy of pines. These, in places,
had kept much of the snow from reaching the ground, and there was a
reasonable hope that they could run across some spot that offered
shelter from the piercing night wind.
Mayhew was so well versed in backwoods lore that he could be depended
on to locate such a camp ground. If necessary they could build a
windbreak out of branches, and behind this make their fire.
Before long the guide gave them to understand that he had sighted what
seemed to be an admirable spot for passing the night.
"Over yonder you can see where I mean," he told them, pointing as he
spoke; and even Roger was forced to admit that it offered advantages
other places had lacked.
Mayhew took his hatchet and cut several slabs from the bark of a
tree. It was to be noticed that he did this on the side nearest their
intended camp; but neither of the pioneer boys asked why this was done,
because their hunter instinct told them Mayhew was only leaving his
mark so that in the morning they would lose no time in picking up the
trail of the lone buffalo.
Once they arrived at the spot selected as their next camp all started
to work. Dick and Mayhew began to erect a thick screen of brush on the
windward side, while Roger collected fuel wherever he could find it.
When he had made quite a pile of broken limbs, and splinters from
a fallen pine tree, Roger got out his tinder-box and flints, and
presently the rising smoke told that his fire was a success.
As the night closed in around them it was a rather cheery scene that
Roger looked upon, while engaged in gathering a further supply of wood,
perhaps twenty or thirty paces away. His two companions were still
engaged in adding the finishing touches to the barricade; the flames
leaped up with a snap and a sparkle, and the glow of the fire seemed to
give the surrounding snow a rosy tint that did much to take away its
cold look.
Roger sighed as he tightened his belt, drawing it up another notch, a
familiar habit with hungry men.
"I think we will have to call this Camp Starvation, Dick," he remarked,
as he threw down the armful of fuel he had collected.
"No, that would hardly be a proper name for it," the other told him
immediately; "because we haven't reached that point yet. I mean to put
it down in my memory as Camp Hope!"
Roger must have been abashed by the gentle reproach in Dick's
declaration, for he did not make any reply until several minutes had
passed. Perhaps he may have been weighing in his mind the many reasons
they had to be thankful, in spite of the dark clouds hanging over their
heads, for when he did speak up it was to say:
"Yes, we will call it Camp Hope, Dick."