A BUFFALO HUNT.
Many weeks were spent in the migration, and it became exceedingly
monotonous and tiresome before their destination was at last sighted.
When, one beautiful afternoon, Mr. Worth pointed ahead to a rolling
knoll covered with trees and announced that there was their future home,
John and Ben set up a wild cheer and dashed ahead to examine the spot.
Camp was pitched on the banks of the Yellowstone, and dug-outs were
made--the cave part first and then the outer portion of substantial
logs. Two large cabins were constructed for the family's dwelling and
kitchen, and several more for the men, of whom there were many, this
being an important mine.
No time was lost in settling, and in an incredibly short while the
household belongings were in place, the provisions stowed away safely,
and the regular camp routine begun. It was necessary to get a
considerable portion of the tunnel driven before frost came. The
opening was made horizontally into the side of the hill and continued in
a straight line until the vein of coal was struck, when the tunnel had
to follow it in whatever direction it went.
The boys were to be initiated into real miner's work at this camp. They
were well grown, strong lads, fully able to do their share. During the
preliminary digging of the drift they did little beyond their regular
chores, except to drive the teams that carted away the earth from the
mouth of the cave.
The important duty of supplying the camp with fresh meat was also
entrusted to them, and it was not long before every haunt of furred and
feathered thing that lived within a radius of miles around was known to
them.
Within a few weeks after the establishment of the camp all preliminary
work had been completed and the mine was ready for business. To
facilitate the delivery of coal to daylight, a rough railroad had been
built; its tracks were of wood, its rolling stock one small,
four-wheeled box car, its motive power, Jerry the mule. Of this
underground railway John was installed as president, board of directors,
general manager, inspector general, passenger and freight agent, chief
engineer, and superintendent of motive power. One day he was engaged in
his many brain-taxing duties, the most trying of which was keeping the
motive power "moting." The flaring lamp in his hat showed but little of
the mule's tough hide, but that little the superintendent belabored
lustily. The little car rumbled and bumped along the rough wooden rails
on its way to one of the rooms where the coal was being dug. John
whistled cheerily to himself and occasionally interrupted the melody to
shout into the mule's wagging ears: "Git up, Jerry!" Soon a point of
yellow light appeared far off in the darkness, and as the lumbering car
went on it grew in size and strength until its nature could be made out
distinctly.
"Hello, Ben," shouted the young driver to his brother, whose cap-light
had showed so clearly up the tunnel. "You'd better oil the hinges of
that door; they squeak like a hungry rat."
The mule had stopped before a great door which blocked the way; it was
so placed as to change the ventilating current of air, and it was Ben's
duty to open and close it after each loaded or empty car. He sat in a
little recess of the wall and pulled the door open and shut with the aid
of a rope.
"It's mighty lonesome here," said he. "Seems as if I couldn't stand it
sometimes, so I brought along the 'Arabian Nights' to-day. Been reading
about Aladdin; he was underground, too, but all he had to do was to rub
a lamp and he just wallowed in pearls, diamonds, and things, while I sit
here all day for half a dollar, and do nothing but open and shut this
door for you and your old mule."
"Yes, I know all about him," answered John, as he drove through the
doorway.
"'Tisn't true, any way," shouted Ben after him. "Couldn't be. Aladdin
was a Chinaman, and no Chink ever made even a dollar a day."
"Guess you're right, but don't get lonesome," the voice came echoing
back through the darkness, mingled with the rumble of the car and the
sharp slap of the stick on poor Jerry's flank.
For a month or more John continued to drive the mule and Ben tended the
door. It was late one afternoon, and the younger boy was feeling very
tired of living away from the sun and the bright fresh air; the darkness
and dankness oppressed him not a little, so he was glad to hear John's
strong voice singing:
"Down in the coal mine,
Underneath the ground,
Digging dusky diamonds
All the year around."
"I'd sing too if I was getting a dollar 'stead of a half, and had a
chance to see daylight once in a while," grumbled Ben as his brother
stopped to talk a bit.
"Hold on a while and don't get excited," counselled the elder. "I'm
going to be promoted, and what's the matter with you moving up too?"
"Why? How?" inquired the discontented one eagerly.
"I'm going to be a regular miner; going to work with Bill Cooper, best
miner out, father says."
"Then I'll drive Jerry and gather in the dollar," cried Ben. "But who'll
tend door?"
For a minute the boy's face showed his disappointment; then he smiled
again as the thought came of a way out of the difficulty. A friendly
Indian camp was located across the river, and the boys, white and red,
often came together for all sorts of sports.
"Why not get 'Coyote-on-a-hill' to work the door while I run the car?"
said Ben exultingly. "He'd be scared to death at first, but I'll tell
him about the fifty cents a day and that will brace his nerve."
And so it turned out. The Indian boy took Ben's place, while John turned
over Jerry to his brother and cast in his fortunes with Bill Cooper.
"Coyote-on-a-hill" was pretty badly scared the first day, but Ben gave
him a word of encouragement whenever he went by, and never failed to
remind him of the money he was making, so he stuck it out like a man,
and presently got quite used to the dreary darkness.
Both of the Worth boys expressed themselves as pleased with the change;
what Jerry thought of it he never remarked.
John found his new work anything but easy. Bill Cooper was a fearless
miner and a hard worker, and his assistant had all he could do to keep
up with the task set for him. It was necessary first to cut under the
mass of coal that was to be dislodged; to do this John had to lie on his
side and so swing his pick in a cramped position. To make the vertical
cut was not much easier, for he found it hard to work squeezed in
between the walls of coal as the crevice deepened. The bottom and side
cuts made, he bored holes (round holes with a flat drill, the knack of
which he acquired only after long practice and a choice collection of
smashed fingers) and then tamped in the paper cartridge of powder. When
the fuse was in place, all that was needed to complete the work was a
light from his lamp. The former was plain, straightforward hard work,
the latter sport. The fuse lay like a snake just sliding into its hole,
the place was quiet as death and as dark as a tomb, except where the
flickering glare of the young miner's lamp shone; his face was covered
with coal dust, through which his eyes peered with unnatural prominence.
He would take the lamp from his cap, stoop down and touch the bare flame
to the end of the snake fuse; it would immediately begin to sputter
sparks, and as John drew back for safety he could watch it eat its way
towards the black wall and the powder within it. The red sparks drew
nearer and nearer the hole, then, after a spiteful little shower,
disappeared. It seemed a long time to the miner waiting behind his
protecting shield before the rending, shaking report sounded, followed
by the glare of the explosion and the rattle of the falling coal. Then
Ben soon turned up with Jerry, and both boys shovelled the loose coal of
varying-sized lumps into the car.
Bill Cooper, though insisting that John must do his share, generally
took the hardest and most dangerous places himself; so it came about one
day that the boy worked at the vertical cut while his partner cut under,
propping up the mass of coal (with wooden logs cut for the purpose) as
he went in deeper.
The work was hard, and neither man nor boy spent any breath in talking.
The dull ring of the pick was the only sound. Deeper and deeper grew
the crevice; soon only John's foot was visible and Cooper had
disappeared entirely under the overhanging ledge of coal; only the faint
glowing of the light and the sound of the tools betrayed the workmen. It
was dirty, tiring, dangerous work. At any moment that great mass of
mineral might fall if the supports were not properly placed or the
king-brace happened to be lodged in a soft spot.
"Come out if you want to save your skin, Bill," cried John suddenly. "I
hear it popping and working all around, and it's beginning to move."
"In a minute. Wait till I dig out this far corner." His voice seemed to
come from the bowels of the earth and had such an uncanny sound that
John shivered.
"Hurry! Never mind the corner--it's going to fall. Come out, quick!"
John's voice had such a note of fear and entreaty in it that the man
below was impressed.
"All right," he said, "I'll come right along."
The boy stopped working and listened. There was a peculiar sliding sound
that filled the air all about him, and from time to time a stone dropped
to the floor with an echoing rattle.
"Come out." With an appalling roar the great mass of coal came down.
John was badly squeezed, his light was extinguished, and all the breath
was knocked out of him, but he managed to work himself free and make his
way to the room. His only thought was of Bill, under that heap of coal
somewhere, and of the need of help.
He rushed along blindly through the solid darkness, his hands
outstretched before him, shouting as he went, "Help, quick!"
Some men who were working in the entry answered him.
"What's up?" they asked.
"Help! Bill lies under a whole lot of coal."
They hurried to the coal face, and John showed them where he thought the
imprisoned man lay, buried under tons of coal; the men, seizing picks,
wedges, and sledges, began working frantically to rescue their comrade.
For half an hour they toiled as they never toiled before. Then there was
a cry of horror. The body was found. The poor fellow's arms were raised
in the very act of swinging his pick, and he evidently had had an
instant and well-nigh painless death.
"Well, boys, I hope mine comes as easy as his," said old Mike McGuire,
who had witnessed many a similar scene.
They took up the body gently and tenderly laid it in the car, the mule
was unhitched, and the miners pushed it slowly to the open air, the
whole force following.
On Sunday Bill's sorrowing comrades buried him. Mr. Worth read a few
verses from the camp's only Bible, offered a short prayer, and the
simple ceremony was over.
Of Bill Cooper, like many of the men of that time, little was known, and
if any one should question as to his origin he would probably be
answered with, "Came from the East, I guess." He had made many friends,
but none felt his tragic death more than his young partner.
After this the work became irksome. John did not get along so well with
his new partner, and often when he stopped to rest the sight came before
his eyes of his dead friend as he lay under the black shroud of coal.
Nevertheless, he toiled away faithfully, and seemed in a fair way of
becoming an expert coal miner.
It was now well towards midwinter, and the boys began to long after some
skating on the clear ice which had for some time covered the river
completely. Alec was a handy blacksmith, and at their entreaties he set
to work and fashioned them two pairs of rough but very serviceable
skates. Since skating on the ice was something the boys had never
learned, they had to get Yumping Yim, the Swede, to teach them how to
use these new acquisitions. Though they were rude affairs, the boys,
whose muscles were developed by snowshoeing, soon managed to make good
headway on the river. In a sharp spin down the glassy surface after the
day's work was over they could forget that their backs ached and their
arms were heavy as lead. The brisk wind and change of exercise was like
a tonic to them, and though the air-holes in the ice made night skating
rather dangerous, it only added zest to their enjoyment.
As the boys skimmed past the Indian camp, which was a large one, they
sometimes found a whole delegation of young savages out to watch their
progress. The Indians had never seen skates before, and their wonder and
interest were great. This camp, in turn, greatly interested the white
boys; as they lay in bed they could hear the _bum-bum-bum-bum_ of the
medicine man's tom-tom come booming monotonously over the river. This
sound continued so everlastingly every night that the boys' curiosity
was aroused and they determined to see what the medicine man did besides
making such a row.
After dark one night, they stole out and over to the red men's lodges,
traced the booming noise, and finally, after great care and much
dodging--for the Indian will not tolerate any spying on or interference
with what he considers sacred--they reached the tepee from which the
sound came; then they crept round to the opening flap and John
cautiously thrust his head in, but quickly withdrew it.
"What's the matter?" whispered Ben.
"Old Crow Hat's facing this way. I was afraid he'd see us," John
answered. "Let's look under this side."
Suiting the action to the word, the boys lifted the side of the
tent-like lodge and gazed at the old medicine man. He was seated before
the fire, his tom-tom between his knees, his head bowed low, and his
long hair hanging over his face (an uncommon condition, for the red men
generally keep their hair most neatly parted). Crow Hat swayed to and
fro in time with the slow beating of his drum, and as he swung he
chanted, "_Eeyuh! Eeyuh! Eeyuh!_" raising and lowering his voice as the
tom-tom was beaten loudly or softly. Long the boys watched him,
fascinated by the weird sound. Suddenly he began to thump his drum
furiously and his voice rose from a low half-grunt to a shriek. The
"_Eeyuh! Eeyuh!_" was now like the wail of a fierce wind.
This was too much for the boys' strained nerves. They backed away
hurriedly and made for home, and it was some time before the sound of
that last frenzied cry died out of their ears.
Bill Cooper's end had a great effect on John, and he was glad of the
first opportunity to get out of the black hole and into the open air.
Indeed, both boys welcomed the work of cutting and hauling props for the
mine, which fell to them soon after their night visit to the Indians.
The elder was busily working unloading props at the mine entrance one
day when Ben came down to him excitedly: "Say, John," he cried, "a squaw
just came down from the big flat and she says she saw some buffalo over
beyond the camp. The Indians over the creek are saddling up to go for
them. Can't we go?"
"I don't know," said John, excited in turn. "You'll have to ask father.
Go on up and see him while I finish this job."
The youngster went off on the run, and in a moment returned. One look at
his face was sufficient to show John that he had the desired permission.
The mules were unhitched and turned out for the day. Baldy and Ben's
horse were quickly saddled, rifles, belts, and cartridges were slung on,
and in a twinkling the two young hunters were off after the biggest game
the country afforded.
[Illustration: THE BIGGEST GAME THE COUNTRY AFFORDED. (_Page 119._)]
[Illustration: A SQUAW . . . JUST SAW SOME BUFFALO. (_Page 118._)]
When they got to the camp they found that most of the bucks had already
started, but old "Wolf Voice," a minor chief with whom the boys had made
friends, still remained.
"There's Wolf Voice; he'll let us go with him," said John. "Hello, can
we go with you?" he shouted to the old man.
"You got good horse? Me go quick," grunted the brave.
"I guess we'll keep up," and Baldy danced as if to show his mettle. In a
few minutes they were on their way up the slope to the plateau which
surrounded the camping place. Baldy kept up easily with the Indian's
pony and Wolf Voice turned after they had covered a mile at a round
pace. "Heap good horse," said he.
"Yes," replied John. "He can beat anything around here in a half-mile
run. Want to try now?"
The temptation was great, for the pony the chief rode was his best, but
the thought of the chase restrained him. "Plenty ride soon," he said.
The level reached, the boys found that the great shaggy beasts were
already surrounded, so they took a place in the circle and waited
impatiently for a chance at the game.
With a yell the Indians rode towards the dazed animals, who now
separated and began to run frantically in all directions. The party of
hunters, of whom there were about twenty-five, also split up into little
groups, and each party chased a buffalo. One of the animals came towards
the boys.
"Get out of his way," yelled John to his brother, "and let him pass
between us. Then fire as he goes."
The great lumbering beast came nearer and nearer, and as they watched,
ready to spring away in case he should charge them, they noticed that he
was being followed far off by an Indian.
"Now shoot," shouted John, as the quarry rushed by. Both rifles rang
out, but the buffalo passed on without showing a sign of being hit.
Immediately Ben's horse bolted with him, but Baldy stood his ground till
his rider urged him after the fleeing game. John held his rifle ready to
make a safe shot when opportunity offered. The horse was now gaining
rapidly, but hearing the thump of hoofs behind him and then an Indian
yelling, he turned his head and saw that Big Hawk, a young brave, was
shouting something. He could not hear what it was, however, and paid no
attention.
The race continued, and John's whole thought was to get in a good shot.
_Zip_! it was the unmistakable sound of a bullet, and as the boy turned
to see from whence it came, _zip_! another bullet went humming by: the
Indian was firing from behind, and the shots were coming unpleasantly
close. John drew Baldy to one side just in time to get out of the
pathway of another leaden pellet.
This last shot caught the buffalo in the leg, and he lunged forward on
his massive head. Big Hawk then rode up and riddled him with bullets.
John was angry clear through.
"The coward," he muttered. "Might have hit me--'twasn't his fault he
didn't either. Anybody could do up a buffalo from behind. 'Fraid I'd get
him, I guess. See that?" He added as Ben came up.
Ben was indignant too, and both boys went up to where the young buck was
skinning the scarcely dead beast, determined to have their share. The
Indian protested against sharing the game, but Wolf Voice happened to
come up at this moment, and, with the authority of a chief, soon settled
the dispute by giving the boys a fine hind quarter. This they lashed
securely with a lariat on Ben's horse. Then both rode off triumphantly
on Baldy.