"Let's have a look. No, nothin' to speak o', be good luck. Ye should
niver go slap through a badger country like that, boy; always keep i'
the bottoms, where the grass is short. Now then, up ye go. That's it!"
Dick remounted, though not with quite so elastic a spring as usual, and
they pushed forward at a more reasonable pace.
Accidents of this kind are of common occurrence in the prairies. Some
horses, however, are so well trained that they look sharp out for these
holes, which are generally found to be most numerous on the high and dry
grounds. But in spite of all the caution both of man and horse, many
ugly falls take place, and sometimes bones are broken.
They had not gone far after this accident, when an antelope leaped from
a clump of willows and made for a belt of woodland that lay along the
margin of a stream not half a mile off.
"Hurrah!" cried Dick, forgetting his recent fall. "Come along, Crusoe."
And away they went again full tilt, for the horse had not been injured
by its somersault.
The antelope which Dick was thus wildly pursuing was of the same species
as the one he had shot some time before, namely, the prong-horned
antelope. These graceful creatures have long, slender limbs, delicately
formed heads, and large, beautiful eyes. The horns are black, and
rather short; they have no branches like the antlers of the red-deer,
but have a single projection on each horn, near the head, and the
extreme points of the horns curve suddenly inwards, forming the hook or
prong from which the name of the animal is derived. Their colour is
dark yellowish brown. They are so fleet that not one horse in a hundred
can overtake them, and their sight and sense of smell are so acute, that
it would be next to impossible to kill them, were it not for the
inordinate curiosity which we have before referred to. The Indians
manage to attract these simple little creatures by merely lying down on
their backs and kicking their heels in the air, or by waving any white
object on the point of an arrow, while the hunter keeps concealed by
lying flat in the grass. By these means a herd of antelopes may be
induced to wheel round and round an object in timid, but intense,
surprise, gradually approaching until they come near enough to enable
the hunter to make sure of his mark. Thus the animals, which of all
others _ought_ to be the most difficult to slay, are, in consequence of
their insatiable curiosity, more easily shot than any other deer of the
plains.
May we not gently suggest to the reader for his or her consideration
that there are human antelopes, so to speak, whose case bears a striking
resemblance to the prong-horn of the North American prairie?
Dick's horse was no match for the antelope; neither was Crusoe, so they
pulled up shortly and returned to their companions to be laughed at.
"It's no manner o' use to wind yer horse, lad, after sich game. They're
not much worth, an', if I mistake not, we'll be among the buffalo soon.
There's fresh tracks everywhere, and the herds are scattered now. Ye
see, when they keep together in bands o' thousands ye don't so often
fall in wi' them. But when they scatters about in twos, an' threes, an
sixes, ye may shoot them every day as much as ye please."
Several groups of buffalo had already been seen on the horizon; but as a
red-deer had been shot in a belt of woodland the day before, they did
not pursue them. The red-deer is very much larger than the prong-horned
antelope, and is highly esteemed both for its flesh and its skin, which
latter becomes almost like chamois leather when dressed.
Notwithstanding this supply of food, the hunters could not resist the
temptation to give chase to a herd of about nine buffaloes that suddenly
came into view as they overtopped an undulation in the plain.
"It's no use," cried Dick, "I _must_ go at them!"
Joe himself caught fire from the spirit of his young friend, so calling
to Henri to come on and let the pack-horse remain to feed, he dashed
away in pursuit. The buffaloes gave one stare of surprise, and then
fled as fast as possible. At first it seemed as if such huge, unwieldy
carcases could not run very fast; but in a few minutes they managed to
get up a pace that put the horses to their mettle. Indeed, at first it
seemed as if the hunters did not gain an inch, but by degrees they
closed with them, for buffaloes are not long-winded.
On nearing the herd, the three men diverged from each other and selected
their animals. Henri, being short-sighted, naturally singled out the
largest; and the largest--also naturally,--was a tough old bull. Joe
brought down a fat young cow at the first shot, and Dick was equally
fortunate. But he well-nigh shot Crusoe, who, just as he was about to
fire, rushed in unexpectedly and sprang at the animal's throat, for
which piece of recklessness he was ordered back to watch the pack-horse.
Meanwhile, Henri, by dint of yelling, throwing his arms wildly about,
and digging his heels into the sides of his long-legged horse, succeeded
in coming close up with the bull, which once or twice turned his clumsy
body half round and glared furiously at its pursuer with its small black
eyes. Suddenly it stuck out its tail, stopped short, and turned full
round. Henri stopped short also. Now, the sticking out of a buffalo's
tail has a peculiar significance which it is well to point out. It
serves, in a sense, the same purpose to the hunter that the compass does
to the mariner; it points out where to go and what to do. When
galloping away in ordinary flight the buffalo carries his tail like
ordinary cattle, which indicates that you may push on. When wounded, he
lashes it from side to side, or carries it over his back, up in the air;
this indicates "Look out! haul off a bit!" But when he carries it stiff
and horizontal, with a _slight curve_ in the middle of it, it says
plainly, "Keep back, or kill me as quick as you can," for that is what
Indians call the _mad-lazy_, and is a sign that mischief is brewing.
Henri's bull displayed the mad-tail just before turning, but he didn't
observe it, and, accordingly, waited for the bull to move and show his
shoulder for a favourable shot. But instead of doing this he put his
head down, and, foaming with rage, went at him full tilt. The big horse
never stirred; it seemed to be petrified. Henri had just time to fire
at the monster's neck, and the next moment was sprawling on his back,
with the horse rolling over four or five yards beyond him. It was a
most effective tableau. Henri rubbing his shins and grinning with pain,
the horse gazing in affright as he rose trembling from the plain, and
the buffalo bull looking on half stunned, and, evidently, very much
surprised at the result of his charge.
Fortunately, before he could repeat the experiment, Dick galloped up and
put a ball through his heart.
Joe and his comrades felt a little ashamed of their exploit on this
occasion, for there was no need to have killed three animals; they could
not have carried with them more than a small portion of one, and they
upbraided themselves several times during the operation of cutting out
the tongues and other choice portions of the two victims. As for the
bull, he was almost totally useless, so they left him as a gift to the
wolves.
Now that they had come among the buffalo, wolves were often seen
sneaking about and licking their hungry jaws; but although they
approached pretty near to the camp at nights, they did not give the
hunters any concern. Even Crusoe became accustomed to them at last, and
ceased to notice them. These creatures are very dangerous sometimes,
however, and when hard pressed by hunger will even attack man. The day
after this hunt the travellers came upon a wounded old buffalo which had
evidently escaped from the Indians (for a couple of arrows were sticking
in its side), only to fall a prey to his deadly enemies, the white
wolves. These savage brutes hang on the skirts of the herds of
buffaloes to attack and devour any one that may chance, from old age, or
from being wounded, to linger behind the rest. The buffalo is tough and
fierce, however, and fights so desperately that although surrounded by
fifty or a hundred wolves, he keeps up the unequal combat for several
days before he finally succumbs.
The old bull that our travellers discovered had evidently been long
engaged with his ferocious adversaries, for his limbs and flesh were
torn in shreds in many places, and blood was streaming from his sides.
Yet he had fought so gallantly that he had tossed and stamped to death
dozens of the enemy. There could not have been fewer than fifty wolves
round him; and they had just concluded another of many futile attacks,
when the hunters came up, for they were ranged in a circle round their
huge adversary--some lying down, some sitting on their haunches to rest,
and others sneaking about, lolling out their red tongues, and licking
their chops as if impatient to renew the combat. The poor buffalo was
nearly spent, and it was clear that a few hours more would see him torn
to shreds and his bones picked clean.
"Ugh! de brutes," ejaculated Henri.
"They don't seem to mind us a bit," remarked Dick, as they rode up to
within pistol shot.
"It'll be merciful to give the old fellow a shot," said Joe. "Them
varmits are sure to finish him at last."
Joe raised his rifle as he spoke, and fired. The old bull gave his last
groan and fell, while the wolves, alarmed by the shot, fled in all
directions; but they did not run far. They knew well that some portion,
at least, of the carcase would fall to their share, so they sat down at
various distances all round, to wait as patiently as they might for the
hunters to retire. Dick left the scene with a feeling of regret that
the villanous wolves should have their feast so much sooner than they
expected.
Yet after all, why should we call these wolves villanous? They did
nothing wrong--nothing contrary to the laws of their peculiar nature.
Nay, if we come to reason upon it, they rank higher in this matter than
man, for while the wolf does no violence to the laws of its instincts,
man often deliberately silences the voice of conscience, and violates
the laws of his own nature. But we will not insist on the term, good
reader, if you object strongly to it. We are willing to admit that the
wolves are _not_ villanous, but, _assuredly_, they are unlovable.
In the course of the afternoon the three horsemen reached a small creek,
the banks of which were lined with a few stunted shrubs and trees.
Having eaten nothing since the night before, they dismounted here to
"feed," as Joe expressed it.
"Cur'ous thing," remarked Joe, as he struck a light by means of flint,
steel, and tinder-box,--"curious thing that we're made to need sich a
lot o' grub. If we could only get on like the sarpints, now, wot can
breakfast on a rabbit, and then wait a month or two for dinner! Ain't
it cur'ous?"
Dick admitted that it was, and stooped to blow the fire into a blaze.
Here Henri uttered a cry of consternation, and stood speechless, with
his mouth open.
"What's the matter? what is't?" cried Dick and Joe, seizing their rifles
instinctively.
"De--grub--him--be--forgat!"
There was a look of blank horror, and then a burst of laughter from Dick
Varley. "Well, well," cried he, "we've got lots o' tea an' sugar, an'
some flour; we can git on wi' that till we shoot another buffalo, or
a-ha!"
Dick observed a wild turkey stalking among the willows as he spoke. It
was fully a hundred yards off, and only its head was seen above the
leaves. This was a matter of little moment, however, for by aiming a
little lower he knew that he must hit the body; but Dick had driven the
nail too often to aim at its body; he aimed at the bird's eye and cut
its head off.
"Fetch it, Crusoe."
In three minutes it was at Dick's feet, and it is not too much to say
that in five minutes more it was in the pot.
As this unexpected supply made up for the loss of the meat which Henri
had forgotten at their last halting-place, their equanimity was
restored, and while the meal was in preparation Dick shouldered his
rifle and went into the bush to try for another turkey. He did not get
one, however, but he shot a couple of prairie-hens, which are excellent
eating. Moreover, he found a large quantity of wild grapes and plums.
These were unfortunately not nearly ripe, but Dick resolved to try his
hand at a new dish, so he stuffed the breast of his coat full of them.
After the pot was emptied Dick washed it out, and put a little clean
water in it. Then he poured some flour in, and stirred it well. While
this was heating, he squeezed the sour grapes and plums into what Joe
called a "mush," mixed it with a spoonful of sugar, and emptied it into
the pot. He also skimmed a quantity of the fat from the remains of the
turkey soup, and added that to the mess, which he stirred with earnest
diligence till it boiled down into a sort of thick porridge.
"D'ye think it'll be good?" asked Joe gravely; "I've me doubts of it."
"We'll see. Hold the tin dish, Henri."
"Take care of de fingers. Ha! it looks magnifique--superb!"
The first spoonful produced an expression on Henri's face that needed
not to be interpreted. It was as sour as vinegar.
"Ye'll ha' to eat it yerself, Dick, lad," cried Joe, throwing down his
spoon, and spitting out the unsavoury mess.
"Nonsense," cried Dick, bolting two or three mouthfuls, and trying to
look as if he liked it. "Try again; it's not so bad as you think."
"Ho--o--o--o--o!" cried Henri, after the second mouthful. "'Tis
vinaigre. All de sugare in de pack would not make more sweeter one bite
of it."
Dick was obliged to confess the dish a failure, so it was thrown out
after having been offered to Crusoe, who gave it one sniff and turned
away in silence. Then they mounted and resumed their journey.
At this place mosquitoes and horse-flies troubled our hunters and their
steeds a good deal. The latter--especially were very annoying to the
poor horses. They bit them so much that the blood at last came
trickling down their sides. They were troubled also, once or twice, by
cockchafers and locusts, which annoyed them, not indeed by biting, but
by flying blindly against their faces, and often narrowly missed hitting
them in the eyes. Once particularly they were so bad, that Henri in his
wrath opened his lips to pronounce a malediction on the whole race, when
a cockchafer flew straight into his mouth, and, to use his own forcible
expression, "nearly knocked him off de hoss." But these were minor
evils, and scarcely cost the hunters a thought.