A MISSION OF PEACE--UNEXPECTED JOYS--DICK AND CRUSOE SET OFF FOR THE
LAND OF THE RED-SKINS, AND MEET WITH ADVENTURES BY THE WAY AS A MATTER
OF COURSE--NIGHT IN THE WILD WOODS.
One day the inhabitants of Mustang Valley were thrown into considerable
excitement by the arrival of an officer of the United States army and a
small escort of cavalry. They went direct to the block-house, which,
since Major Hope's departure, had become the residence of Joe Blunt--
that worthy having, by general consent, been deemed the fittest man in
the settlement to fill the major's place.
Soon it began to be noised abroad that the strangers had been sent by
Government to endeavour to bring about, if possible, a more friendly
state of feeling between the whites and the Indians, by means of
presents, and promises, and fair speeches.
The party remained all night in the block-house, and ere long it was
reported that Joe Blunt had been requested, and had consented, to be the
leader and chief of a party of three men who should visit the
neighbouring tribes of Indians, to the west and north of the valley, as
Government agents. Joe's knowledge of two or three different Indian
dialects, and his well-known sagacity, rendered him a most fitting
messenger on such an errand. It was also whispered that Joe was to have
the choosing of his comrades in this mission, and many were the opinions
expressed and guesses made as to who would be chosen.
That same evening Dick Varley was sitting in his mother's kitchen
cleaning his rifle; his mother was preparing supper and talking quietly
about the obstinacy of a particular hen that had taken to laying her
eggs in places where they could not be found; Fan was coiled up in a
corner sound asleep, and Crusoe was sitting at one side of the fire
looking on at things in general.
"I wonder," remarked Mrs Varley, as she spread the table with a pure
white napkin; "I wonder what the sodgers are doin' wi' Joe Blunt."
As often happens when an individual is mentioned, the worthy referred to
opened the door at that moment and stepped into the room.
"Good-e'en t'ye, dame," said the stout hunter, doffing his cap, and
resting his rifle in a corner, while Dick rose and placed a chair for
him.
"The same to you, Master Blunt," answered the widow; "you've jist comed
in good time for a cut o' venison."
"Thanks, mistress, I s'pose we're beholden to the silver rifle for
that."
"To the hand that aimed it, rather," suggested the widow.
"Nay, then, say raither to the dog that turned it," said Dick Varley.
"But for Crusoe that buck would ha' bin couched in the woods this
night."
"Oh! if it comes to that," retorted Joe, "I'd lay it to the door o' Fan,
for if she'd niver bin born nother would Crusoe. But it's good an'
tender meat, whativer ways ye got it. Howsiver, I've other things to
talk about jist now. Them sodgers that are eatin' buffalo tongues up at
the block-house as if they'd niver ate meat before, and didn't hope to
eat agin for a twelve-month--"
"Ay, what o' them?" interrupted Mrs Varley; "I've bin wonderin' what
was their errand."
"Of coorse ye wos, Dame Varley; and I've comed here a' purpis to tell
ye. They want me to go to the Red-skins to make peace between them and
us; and they've brought a lot o' goods to make them presents withal,--
beads, an' knives, an' lookin'-glasses, an vermilion paint, an'
sich-like, jist as much as'll be a light load for one horse--for, ye
see, nothin' can be done wi' the Red-skins without gifts."
"'Tis a blessed mission," said the widow, "I wish it may succeed. D'ye
think ye'll go?"
"Go? ay, that will I."
"I only wish they'd made the offer to me," said Dick with a sigh.
"An' so they do make the offer, lad. They've gin me leave to choose the
two men I'm to take with me, and I've comed straight to ask _you_. Ay
or no, for we must up an' away by break o' day to-morrow."
Mrs Varley started. "So soon?" she said, with a look of anxiety.
"Ay; the Pawnees are at the Yellow Creek jist at this time, but I've
heer'd they're 'bout to break up camp an' away west; so we'll need to
use haste."
"May I go, mother?" asked Dick, with a look of anxiety.
There was evidently a conflict in the widow's breast, but it quickly
ceased.
"Yes, my boy," she said in her own low, quiet voice, "an' God go with
ye. I knew the time must come soon, an' I thank Him that your first
visit to the Red-skins will be on an errand o' peace. `Blessed are the
peacemakers, for they shall be called the children of God.'"
Dick grasped his mother's hand and pressed it to his cheek in silence.
At the same moment Crusoe, seeing that the deeper feelings of his master
were touched, and deeming it his duty to sympathise, rose up and thrust
his nose against him.
"Ah! pup," cried the young man hastily, "you must go too. Of course
Crusoe goes, Joe Blunt?"
"Hum! I don't know that. There's no dependin' on a dog to keep his
tongue quiet in times o' danger."
"Believe me," exclaimed Dick, flashing with enthusiasm, "Crusoe's more
trustworthy than I am myself. If ye can trust the master yer safe to
trust the pup."
"Well, lad, ye may be right. We'll take him."
"Thanks, Joe. And who else goes with us?"
"I've bin castin' that in my mind for some time, an' I've fixed to take
Henri. He's not the safest man in the valley, but he's the truest,
that's a fact. And now, younker, get yer horse an' rifle ready, and
come to the block-house at daybreak to-morrow. Good luck to ye,
mistress, till we meet agin."
Joe Blunt rose, and taking up his rifle,--without which he scarcely ever
moved a foot from his own door,--left the cottage with rapid strides.
"My son," said Mrs Varley, kissing Dick's cheek as he resumed his seat,
"put this in the little pocket I made for it in your hunting shirt."
She handed him a small pocket Bible.
"Dear mother," he said, as he placed the book carefully within the
breast of his coat, "the Red-skin that takes that from me must take my
scalp first. But don't fear for me. You've often said the Lord would
protect me. So He will, mother, for sure it's an errand o' peace!"
"Ay, that's it, that's it," murmured the widow in a half-soliloquy.
Dick Varley spent that night in converse with his mother, and next
morning at daybreak he was at the place of meeting mounted on his sturdy
little horse, with the "silver rifle" on his shoulder, and Crusoe by his
side.
"That's right, lad, that's right. Nothin' like keepin' yer time," said
Joe, as he led out a pack-horse from the gate of the block-house, while
his own charger was held ready saddled by a man named Daniel Brand, who
had been appointed to the charge of the block-house in his absence.
"Where's Henri?--oh! here he comes," exclaimed Dick, as the hunter
referred to came thundering up the slope at a charge, on a horse that
resembled its rider in size, and not a little in clumsiness of
appearance.
"Ah! mes boy. Him is a goot one to go," cried Henri, remarking Dick's
smile as he pulled up. "No hoss on de plain can beat dis one,
surement."
"Now then, Henri, lend a hand to fix this pack, we've no time to
palaver."
By this time they were joined by several of the soldiers and a few
hunters who had come to see them start.
"Remember, Joe," cried one, "if you don't come back in three months
we'll all come out in a band to seek you."
"If we don't come back in less than that time, what's left o' us won't
be worth seekin' for," said Joe, tightening the girth of his saddle.
"Put a bit in yer own mouth, Henri," cried another, as the Canadian
arranged his steed's bridle; "ye'll need it more than yer horse when ye
git 'mong the red reptiles."
"Vraiment, if mon mout' needs one bit yours will need one padlock."
"Now, lads, mount!" cried Joe Blunt as he vaulted into the saddle.
Dick Varley sprang lightly on his horse, and Henri made a rush at his
steed and hurled his huge frame across its back with a violence that
_ought_ to have brought it to the ground; but the tall, raw-boned,
broad-chested roan was accustomed to the eccentricities of its master,
and stood the shock bravely. Being appointed to lead the pack-horse,
Henri seized its halter; then the three cavaliers shook their reins,
and, waving their hands to their comrades, they sprang into the woods at
full gallop, and laid their course for the "far west."
For some time they galloped side by side in silence, each occupied with
his own thoughts, Crusoe keeping close beside his master's horse. The
two elder hunters evidently ruminated on the object of their mission and
the prospects of success, for their countenances were grave and their
eyes cast on the ground. Dick Varley, too, thought upon the Red-men,
but his musings were deeply tinged with the bright hues of a _first_
adventure. The mountains, the plains, the Indians, the bears, the
buffaloes, and a thousand other objects, danced wildly before his mind's
eye, and his blood careered through his veins and flushed his forehead
as he thought of what he should see and do, and felt the elastic vigour
of youth respond in sympathy to the light spring of his active little
steed. He was a lover of nature, too, and his flashing eyes glanced
observantly from side to side as they swept along,--sometimes through
glades of forest trees; sometimes through belts of more open ground and
shrubbery; anon by the margin of a stream, or along the shores of a
little lake, and often over short stretches of flowering prairie-land,--
while the firm, elastic turf sent up a muffled sound from the tramp of
their mettlesome chargers. It was a scene of wild, luxuriant beauty,
that might almost (one could fancy) have drawn involuntary homage to its
bountiful Creator from the lips even of an infidel.
After a time Joe Blunt reined up, and they proceeded at an easy ambling
pace. Joe and his friend Henri were so used to these beautiful scenes
that they had long ceased to be _enthusiastically_ affected by them,
though they never ceased to delight in them.
"I hope," said Joe, "that them sodgers 'll go their ways soon. I've no
notion o' them chaps when they're left at a place wi' nothin' to do but
whittle sticks."
"Why, Joe!" exclaimed Dick Varley in a tone of surprise, "I thought you
were admirin' the beautiful face o' nature all this time, and yer only
thinkin' about the sodgers. Now, that's strange!"
"Not so strange after all, lad," answered Joe. "When a man's used to a
thing he gits to admire an' enjoy it without speakin' much about it.
But it _is_ true, boy, that mankind gits in coorse o' time to think
little o' the blissins he's used to."
"Oui, c'est _vrai_!" murmured Henri emphatically.
"Well, Joe Blunt, it may be so; but I'm thankful _I'm_ not used to this
sort o' thing yet," exclaimed Varley. "Let's have another gallop--so
ho! come along, Crusoe!" shouted the youth, as he shook his reins, and
flew over a long stretch of prairie on which at that moment they
entered.
Joe smiled as he followed his enthusiastic companion, but after a short
run he pulled up.
"Hold on, youngster," he cried, "ye must larn to do as yer bid, lad;
it's trouble enough to be among wild Injuns and wild buffaloes, as I
hope soon to be, without havin' wild comrades to look after."
Dick laughed and reined in his panting horse. "I'll be as obedient as
Crusoe," he said, "and no one can beat him."
"Besides," continued Joe, "the horses won't travel far if we begin by
runnin' all the wind out o' them."
"Wah!" exclaimed Henri, as the led horse became restive; "I think we
must give to him de pack-hoss for to lead, eh!"
"Not a bad notion, Henri. We'll make that the penalty of runnin' off
again; so look out, Master Dick."
"I'm down," replied Dick with a modest air, "obedient as a baby, and
won't run off again--till--the next time. By the way, Joe, how many
days' provisions did ye bring?"
"Two. That's 'nough to carry us to the Great Prairie, which is three
weeks distant from this; our own good rifles must make up the
difference, and keep us when we git there."
"And s'pose we neither find deer nor buffalo," suggested Dick.
"I s'pose we'll have to starve."
"Dat is cumfer'able to tink upon," remarked Henri.
"More comfortable to think o' than to undergo," said Dick, "but I s'pose
there's little chance o' that."
"Well, not much," replied Joe Blunt, patting his horse's neck; "but d'ye
see, lad, ye niver can count for sartin on anythin'. The deer and
buffalo ought to be thick in them plains at this time--and when the
buffalo _are_ thick they covers the plains till ye can hardly see the
end o' them; but, ye see, sometimes the rascally Red-skins takes it into
their heads to burn the prairies, and sometimes ye find the place that
should ha' bin black wi' buffalo, black as a coal wi' fire for miles an'
miles on end. At other times the Red-skins go huntin' in 'ticlar
places, and sweeps them clean o' every hoof that don't git away.
Sometimes, too, the animals seems to take a scunner at a place and keeps
out o' the way. But one way or another men gin'rally manage to scramble
through."
"Look yonder, Joe," exclaimed Dick, pointing to the summit of a distant
ridge, where a small black object was seen moving against the sky,
"that's a deer, ain't it?"
Joe shaded his eyes with his hand and gazed earnestly at the object in
question. "Yer right, boy; and by good luck we've got the wind of him.
Cut in an' take your chance now. There's a long strip o' wood as'll let
ye git close to him."
Before the sentence was well finished, Dick and Crusoe were off at full
gallop. For a few hundred yards they coursed along the bottom of a
hollow; then turning to the right they entered the strip of wood, and in
a few minutes gained the edge of it. Here Dick dismounted.
"You can't help me here, Crusoe. Stay where you are, pup, and hold my
horse."
Crusoe seized the end of the line, which was fastened to the horse's
nose, in his mouth, and lay down on a hillock of moss, submissively
placing his chin on his fore-paws, and watching his master as he stepped
noiselessly through the wood. In a few minutes Dick emerged from among
the trees, and, creeping from bush to bush, succeeded in getting to
within six hundred yards of the deer, which was a beautiful little
antelope. Beyond the bush behind which he now crouched all was bare
open ground, without a shrub or hillock large enough to conceal the
hunter. There was a slight undulation in the ground, however, which
enabled him to advance about fifty yards further, by means of lying down
quite flat and working himself forward like a serpent. Further than
this he could not move without being seen by the antelope, which browsed
on the ridge before him in fancied security. The distance was too great
even for a long shot, but Dick knew of a weak point in this little
creature's nature which enabled him to accomplish his purpose--a weak
point which it shares in common with animals of a higher order,--namely,
curiosity.
The little antelope of the North American prairies is intensely curious
about everything that it does not quite understand, and will not rest
satisfied until it has endeavoured to clear up the mystery. Availing
himself of this propensity, Dick did what both Indians and hunters are
accustomed to do on these occasions,--he put a piece of rag on the end
of his ramrod, and, keeping his person concealed and perfectly still,
waved this miniature flag in the air. The antelope noticed it at once,
and, pricking up its ears, began to advance, timidly and slowly, step by
step, to see what remarkable phenomenon it could be. In a few seconds
the flag was lowered, a sharp crack followed, and the antelope fell dead
upon the plain.
"Ha, boy! that's a good supper, anyhow," cried Joe, as he galloped up
and dismounted.
"Goot! dat is better nor dried meat," added Henri. "Give him to me; I
will put him on my hoss, vich is strongar dan yourn. But ver is your
hoss?"
"He'll be here in a minute," replied Dick, putting his fingers to his
mouth and giving forth a shrill whistle.
The instant Crusoe heard the sound he made a savage and apparently
uncalled-for dash at the horse's heels. This wild act, so contrary to
the dog's gentle nature, was a mere piece of acting. He knew that the
horse would not advance without getting a fright, so he gave him one in
this way which sent him off at a gallop. Crusoe followed close at his
heels, so as to bring the line alongside of the nag's body, and thereby
prevent its getting entangled; but despite his best efforts the horse
got on one side of a tree and he on the other, so he wisely let go his
hold of the line, and waited till more open ground enabled him to catch
it again. Then he hung heavily back, gradually checked the horse's
speed, and finally trotted him up to his master's side.
"'Tis a cliver cur, good sooth," exclaimed Joe Blunt in surprise.
"Ah, Joe! you haven't seen much of Crusoe yet. He's as good as a man
any day. I've done little else but train him for two years gone by, and
he can do most anything but shoot--he can't handle the rifle nohow."
"Ha! then, I tink perhaps hims could if he wos try," said Henri,
plunging on to his horse with a laugh, and arranging the carcase of the
antelope across the pommel of his saddle.
Thus they hunted and galloped, and trotted and ambled on through wood
and plain all day, until the sun began to descend below the tree-tops of
the bluffs on the west--then Joe Blunt looked about him for a place on
which to camp, and finally fixed on a spot under the shadow of a noble
birch by the margin of a little stream. The carpet of grass on its
banks was soft like green velvet, and the rippling waters of the brook
were clear as crystal--very different from the muddy Missouri into which
it flowed.
While Dick Varley felled and cut up firewood, Henri unpacked the horses
and turned them loose to graze, and Joe kindled the fire and prepared
venison steaks and hot tea for supper.
In excursions of this kind it is customary to "hobble" the horses; that
is, to tie their fore-legs together, so that they cannot run either fast
or far, but are free enough to amble about with a clumsy sort of hop in
search of food. This is deemed a sufficient check on their tendency to
roam, although some of the knowing horses sometimes learn to hop so fast
with their hobbles as to give their owners much trouble to recapture
them. But when out in the prairies where Indians are known or supposed
to be in the neighbourhood, the horses are picketed by means of a pin or
stake attached to the ends of their long laryats, as well as hobbled--
for Indians deem it no disgrace to steal or tell lies, though they think
it disgraceful to be found out in doing either. And so expert are these
dark-skinned natives of the western prairies, that they will creep into
the midst of an enemy's camp, cut the laryats and hobbles of several
horses, spring suddenly on their backs, and gallop away.
They not only steal from white men, but tribes that are at enmity steal
from each other, and the boldness with which they do this is most
remarkable. When Indians are travelling in a country where enemies are
prowling, they guard their camps at night with jealous care. The horses
in particular are both hobbled and picketed, and sentries are posted all
round the camp. Yet, in spite of these precautions, hostile Indians
manage to elude the sentries, and creep into the camp. When a thief
thus succeeds in effecting an entrance, his chief danger is past. He
rises boldly to his feet, and, wrapping his blanket or buffalo robe
round him, he walks up and down as if he were a member of the tribe. At
the same time he dexterously cuts the laryats of such horses as he
observes are not hobbled. He dare not stoop to cut the hobbles, as the
action would be observed, and suspicion would be instantly aroused. He
then leaps on the best horse he can find, and uttering a terrific
war-whoop darts away into the plains, driving the loosened horses before
him.
No such dark thieves were supposed to be near the camp under the
birch-tree, however, so Joe, and Dick, and Henri ate their supper in
comfort, and let their horses browse at will on the rich pasturage.
A bright ruddy fire was soon kindled, which created, as it were, a
little ball of light in the midst of surrounding darkness for the
special use of our hardy hunters. Within this magic circle all was
warm, comfortable, and cheery. Outside all was dark, and cold, and
dreary by contrast.
When the substantial part of supper was disposed of, tea and pipes were
introduced, and conversation began to flow. Then the three saddles were
placed in a row; each hunter wrapped himself in his blanket, and,
pillowing his head on his saddle, stretched his feet towards the fire
and went to sleep, with his loaded rifle by his side and his
hunting-knife handy in his belt. Crusoe mounted guard by stretching
himself out _couchant_ at Dick Varley's side. The faithful dog slept
lightly and never moved all night, but had any one observed him closely
he would have seen that every fitful flame that burst from the sinking
fire, every unusual puff of wind, and every motion of the horses that
fed or rested hard by, had the effect of revealing a speck of glittering
white in Crusoe's watchful eye.