THE HUNTERS' FEAST
"HEAD him off!" Roger called from the rear, while he made all haste to
come up, even though he had an empty and useless gun, and could not be
of any assistance to his comrades.
The others had gauged the situation, and realized that their best move
was to follow directly after the animal, thus causing him to push
deeper into the trap. The heavy fall of snow, that they had grumbled at
so many times when struggling along knee-deep, now promised to be their
best ally.
In this fashion they presently found themselves close upon the
struggling bull. Floundering there he could not make much headway, and
at last in desperation the animal started to turn upon his pursuers.
They knew well what the result might be if they allowed the charge to
be carried out. One of them would be struck down by those wicked black
horns that adorned the shaggy head; and, worst of all, the animal was
likely to escape, since Roger could do little or nothing to stay his
flight over the back trail.
[Illustration: "THE BUFFALO WAS JUST IN THE ACT OF TURNING WHEN THE
FRONTIERSMAN FIRED"]
It had been arranged that Mayhew was to take the first shot, and they
hoped one would be sufficient, with the backing of knife and hatchet.
The buffalo was just in the act of turning when the frontiersman fired,
and in consequence Mayhew could hardly have asked for a better showing,
since one flank was wholly exposed.
At the time the marksman could not have been more than fifteen feet
away, and a miss was out of the question. Mayhew had hunted these huge
bison on numerous occasions, since he was one of those upon whom the
exploring party depended for a regular supply of fresh meat.
This being the case, he knew exactly where to place his bullet in order
to get the best results. As a consequence no sooner had he discharged
his gun, and drawn his hatchet in order to be prepared for the worst,
than he saw the animal stagger and fall in his tracks.
A vital spot must have been reached by the missile that was driven by
that heavy charge of powder; for the long-barreled guns of the pioneers
were powerful in their execution.
When Roger saw the quarry struggling in the snow-drift his
excitement became so great that he could not even shout, much as he
felt like so doing. Hurrying toward the spot, he fastened his hungry
eyes upon the animal whose efforts to rise were becoming more and more
feeble.
Presently Mayhew, watching his chance, stepped briskly forward and with
one well-aimed blow from the back of his hatchet finished the business.
"Hurrah!" gasped Roger, carried away by the importance of their
well-earned victory.
No doubt delightful visions immediately began to flit through his
brain, as in imagination he saw himself seated by a fire, and devouring
ration upon ration of savory buffalo meat.
"Remember your part of the transaction, Roger!" warned Dick, as, knife
in hand, he prepared to cut up the game.
"That means a fire!" answered the other, excitedly. "Hand me over the
fine stuff you said you had packed up, Dick. Oh! you can depend on me
to get things going in a hurry. There's a spot close by where I saw
plenty of wood. The snow was blown away somehow or other. Give me a
little time, and you will see smoke rising!"
Doubtless Roger had started scores, even hundreds, of fires in his
time; but it is certain that he never entered into the task with a
lighter heart than on this particular occasion. His very soul seemed
to be singing with joy as he hastily gathered up some of the wood most
easily obtained, and then, picking a good spot, proceeded to use flint
and steel with hopes of speedy results.
Finding that his very eagerness was delaying him, Roger called a
halt, took himself to task, and after that settled down grimly to
accomplishing his part of the proceedings without a hitch.
In a short time smoke began to curl upwards from his small beginning.
Blowing the feeble blaze he quickly had it taking hold in earnest.
The crackle and snap of the burning wood was music to the ears of the
almost delirious boy.
"The fire is ready, Dick!" he called out.
"Then come for some of the meat, and commence business," was the
welcome answer.
As there was nothing that Mayhew could do to assist in carving the dead
buffalo, he also was given various "hunks" of the meat, and presently
the two sat there by the fire, attending to a dozen or more sticks, on
the ends of which their long-delayed meal was being slowly browned.
Never in all his life had Roger felt so frantic upon smelling the
odor of cooking meat. It would have been just the same had their fare
consisted of venison, bear meat, or wild turkey; all he wanted was
something to satisfy that terrible craving which was overpowering him.
It must be confessed that Roger, unable to stand the suspense and
temptation longer, snatched the first piece from its stick before it
was half-cooked, and commenced to devour it like a savage.
He seemed to enjoy it, too, which fact caused the guide to speedily
follow his example and appropriate one of the sections for himself.
Dick, coming up just then with a further supply, first of all filled
the empty sticks with fresh portions, and then--well, Dick was just
as hungry as either of his comrades, and there was really no sense in
waiting any longer, so he made it unanimous!
After they had taken the sharp edge off their ravenous hunger the pace
was not quite so swift. They were willing to wait until the meat was
fairly well cooked; and by degrees it was noticed that they even began
to slacken in their attack.
At length Dick laughed as he remarked:
"I think I have reached my limit, and, as I hardly want to be called a
glutton, I mean to quit."
"One more piece will satisfy me--for a while at least," Roger confessed.
The guide also admitted that he believed he could contain no more.
Although possibly at another time Roger might have complained about the
fresh meat being tough, no one heard him utter a single word against
it on that occasion. It would be adding insult to injury to find fault
with something that had really been the means of saving their lives.
"While we have this fire," suggested Dick, "it would be a good idea to
cook some more of the meat. We may not be able to start another blaze
later on; the danger of being discovered and attacked might be too
great. What do you think about it, Mayhew?"
"It is a sensible idea, I must say," came the immediate reply.
As that settled it, Dick went over and proceeded to do some more work
with his keen-edged blade. They meant to take considerable of the
meat along with them at any rate; that much had been decided on long
before. With but another shot left between starvation and themselves,
they could not afford to be wasteful when good luck had thrown a chance
like this in their way.
Roger was quite a different sort of fellow, now that he no longer
experienced the tortures of an unappeased appetite. He could even look
hopefully into the future, and see glorious opportunities for carrying
out their plan of campaign. As Dick had truly said, what they had done
once could be accomplished again. Favored by the protecting hand of
Providence, they must surely be able to get the better of that cruel
and scheming French trader.
The big lake where the river had its source could not be many miles
away from where they now stood. They would push steadily on, and, upon
striking its shores, ascertain where the Frenchmen had their camp.
"They must have a fire in such cold weather," Roger argued, and the
others agreed with him, glad to find that he was looking at matters so
cheerfully. "And fire makes some kind of smoke, so we ought to be able
to tell where it is. Then, when the night comes, we can creep up and
set Jasper free."
How simple the program seemed now! The rocks heretofore appearing
almost unsurmountable diminished in size, and no longer stood as a
barrier that could not be scaled. A full stomach nearly always makes
one see things in a rosy light.
Finally it was decided they had cooked a sufficient supply of meat.
The balance that they expected to carry with them was made up in small
packages enclosed in portions of the buffalo hide and tied securely
with thongs.
As they were burdened with little save their guns, now almost useless
to them, these packages would not prove troublesome. Roger was willing
to load himself down with twice the amount, and bravely stagger under
it all, rather than risk the chance of suffering again the misery he
had endured.
"You feel sure the lake lies to the east of us, Mayhew, do you not?"
Roger asked the guide when they were ready to start, feeling ever so
much stronger, and able to push through the drifts where they could not
be skirted.
"Yes, everything points that way," he was assured by Mayhew. "From
the way that Frenchman pointed when he was talking to you both, Dick
figured that the lake was off in that direction. And then the crows
fly that way in the morning, and return again in the evening. That is a
pretty good sign, I take it."
Roger became interested at once. Here was something he had not thought
of noticing, and consequently he wished for more information.
"Tell me why that should be so," he asked, as they started.
"These crows do not drift south in the winter time," explained the
frontiersman. "They stay up here, and, as they must find feed when the
earth is covered under many feet of snow, they have learned that along
the shore of the big lake they can get what they need--dead fish and
all sorts of other things cast up by the waves."
"But what if the lake freezes over, as it may do in very hard winters?"
Roger questioned.
"Oh, they would still find things to eat on the ice," returned Mayhew.
"Being an open stretch, the wind would keep the snow from settling
there. But no matter, that is where they fly each morning; and you know
what hunters say about a direct line being as 'straight as the crow
flies.'"
"Mayhew is right, Roger," said Dick, "and the chances are as ten to one
that we are heading straight for the big lake right now."
For some time they made steady progress. Possibly they covered as much
as two miles when the guide was suddenly observed to come to a full
stop. Both of the boys followed suit. They were not ten feet behind
Mayhew, so it was possible for them to exchange words with him in low
tones. Dick it was who found his voice first, for Roger grew so excited
he became dumb for the time being.
"What is it, Mayhew?" asked Dick, half-elevating his gun, which
contained the only charge of powder and lead they possessed, and under
such conditions might be looked on as their sole means of defense in
case of threatening peril.
"There are Injuns near by," came the answer. "I saw a feathered head
rise above yonder bush; and, as I live, there are others on either side
of us. It looks as though we were surrounded!"