EVENING MEDITATIONS AND MORNING REFLECTIONS--BUFFALOES, BADGERS,
ANTELOPES, AND ACCIDENTS--AN OLD BULL AND THE WOLVES--"MAD-TAILS"--HENRI
FLOORED, ETCETERA.
There is nothing that prepares one so well for the enjoyment of rest,
both mental and physical, as a long-protracted period of excitement and
anxiety, followed up by bodily fatigue. Excitement alone banishes rest;
but, united with severe physical exertion, it prepares for it. At
least, courteous reader, this is our experience, and certainly this was
the experience of our three hunters as they lay on their backs beneath
the branches of a willow bush, and gazed serenely up at the twinkling
stars, two days after their escape from the Indian village.
They spoke little; they were too tired for that; also, they were too
comfortable. Their respective suppers of fresh antelope steak, shot
that day, had just been disposed of; their feet were directed towards
the small fire on which the said steaks had been cooked, and which still
threw a warm, ruddy glow over the encampment. Their blankets were
wrapped comfortably round them, and tucked in as only hunters and
mothers know _how_ to tuck them in. Their respective pipes delivered
forth, at stated intervals, three richly yellow puffs of smoke, as if a
three-gun battery were playing upon the sky from that particular spot of
earth. The horses were picketted and hobbled in a rich grassy bottom
close by, from which the quiet munch of their equine jaws sounded
pleasantly, for it told of healthy appetites, and promised speed on the
morrow. The fear of being overtaken during the night was now past, and
the faithful Crusoe, by virtue of sight, hearing, and smell, guaranteed
them against sudden attack during the hours of slumber. A perfume of
wild flowers mingled with the loved odours of the "weed," and the tinkle
of a tiny rivulet fell sweetly on their ears. In short, the
"Pale-faces" were supremely happy, and disposed to be thankful for their
recent deliverance and their present comforts.
"I wonder what the stars are," said Dick, languidly taking the pipe out
of his mouth.
"Bits o' fire," suggested Joe.
"I tink dey are vorlds," muttered Henri, "an' have peepels in dem. I
have hear men say dat."
A long silence followed, during which, no doubt, the star-gazers were
working out various theories in their own minds.
"Wonder," said Dick again, "how far off they be."
"A mile or two, maybe," said Joe.
Henri was about to laugh sarcastically at this; but, on further
consideration, he thought it would be more comfortable not to, so he lay
still. In another minute he said--"Joe Blunt, you is ver' igrant.
Don't you know dat de books say de stars be hondreds, tousands,--oh!
milleryons of mile away to here, and dat de is more bigger dan dis
vorld?"
Joe snored lightly, and his pipe fell out of his mouth at this point, so
the conversation dropped. Presently Dick asked, in a low tone, "I say,
Henri, are ye asleep?"
"Oui," replied Henri, faintly. "Don't speak, or you vill vaken me."
"Ah! Crusoe, you're not asleep, are you, pup?" No need to ask that
question. The instantaneous wag of that speaking fail, and the glance
of that wakeful eye, as the dog lifted his head and laid his chin on
Dick's arm, showed that he had been listening to every word that was
spoken. We cannot say whether he understood it, but beyond all doubt he
heard it. Crusoe never presumed to think of going to sleep until his
master was as sound as a top; then he ventured to indulge in that light
species of slumber which is familiarly known as "sleeping with one eye
open." But, comparatively, as well as figuratively speaking, Crusoe
slept usually with one eye and a-half open, and the other half was never
very tightly shut.
Gradually Dick's pipe fell out of his mouth, an event which the dog,
with an exercise of instinct almost, if not quite, amounting to reason,
regarded as a signal for him to go off. The campfire went slowly out,
the stars twinkled down at their reflections in the brook, and a deep
breathing of wearied men was the only sound that rose in harmony with
the purling stream.
Before the sun rose next morning, and while many of the brighter stars
were still struggling for existence with the approaching day, Joe was up
and buckling on the saddle-bags, while he shouted to his unwilling
companions to rise.
"If it depended on you," he said, "the Pawnees wouldn't be long afore
they got our scalps. Jump, ye dogs, an' lend a hand, will ye!"
A snore from Dick and a deep sigh from Henri was the answer to this
pathetic appeal. It so happened, however, that Henri's pipe, in falling
from his lips, had emptied the ashes just under his nose, so that the
sigh referred to drew a quantity thereof into his throat, and almost
choked him. Nothing could have been a more effective awakener. He was
up in a moment coughing vociferously. Most men have a tendency to vent
ill-humour on some one, and they generally do it on one whom they deem
to be worse than themselves. Henri, therefore, instead of growling at
Joe for rousing him, scolded Dick for not rising.
"Ha, mauvais dog! bad chien, vill you dare to look to me?"
Crusoe did look with amiable placidity, as though to say, "Howl away,
old boy, I won't budge till Dick does."
With a mighty effort Giant Sleep was thrown off at last, and the hunters
were once more on their journey, cantering lightly over the soft turf.
"Ho! let's have a run," cried Dick, unable to repress the feelings
aroused by the exhilarating morning air.
"Have a care, boy," cried Joe, as they stretched out at full gallop.
"Keep off the ridge; it's riddled wi' badger--Hah! I thought so."
At that moment Dick's horse put its foot into a badger hole, and turned
completely over, sending its rider through the air in a curve that an
East Indian acrobat would have envied. For a few seconds Dick lay flat
on his back; then he jumped up and laughed, while his comrades hurried
up anxiously to his assistance.
"No bones broke?" inquired Joe.