WOLVES ATTACK THE HORSES, AND CAMERON CIRCUMVENTS THE WOLVES--A
BEAR-HUNT, IN WHICH HENRI SHINES CONSPICUOUS--JOE AND THE
"NATTER-LIST"--AN ALARM--A SURPRISE AND A CAPTURE.
We must now return to the camp where Walter Cameron still guarded the
goods, and the men pursued their trapping avocations.
Here seven of the horses had been killed in one night by wolves while
grazing in a plain close to the camp, and on the night following a horse
that had strayed was also torn to pieces and devoured. The prompt and
daring manner in which this had been done convinced the trader that
white wolves had unfortunately scented them out, and he set several
traps in the hope of capturing them.
White wolves are quite distinct from the ordinary wolves that prowl
through woods and plains in large packs. They are much larger, weighing
sometimes as much as a hundred and thirty pounds; but they are
comparatively scarce, and move about alone, or in small bands of three
or four. Their strength is enormous, and they are so fierce that they
do not hesitate, upon occasions, to attack man himself. Their method of
killing horses is very deliberate. Two wolves generally undertake the
cold-blooded murder. They approach their victim with the most innocent
looking and frolicsome gambols, lying down and rolling about, and
frisking pleasantly until the horse becomes a little accustomed to them.
Then one approaches right in front, the other in rear, still frisking
playfully, until they think themselves near enough, when they make a
simultaneous rush. The wolf which approaches in rear is the true
assailant; the rush of the other is a mere feint; then both fasten on
the poor horse's haunches and never let go till the sinews are cut and
he is rolling on his side.
The horse makes comparatively little struggle in this deadly assault.
He seems paralysed and soon falls to rise no more.
Cameron set his traps towards evening in a circle with a bait in the
centre and then retired to rest. Next morning he called Joe Blunt and
the two went off together.
"It is strange that these rascally white wolves should be so bold when
the smaller kinds are so cowardly," remarked Cameron, as they walked
along.
"So 'tis," replied Joe, "but I've seed them other chaps bold enough too
in the prairie when they were in large packs and starvin'."
"I believe the small wolves follow the big fellows and help them to eat
what they kill, though they generally sit round and look on at the
killing."
"Hist!" exclaimed Joe, cocking his gun, "there he is, an' no mistake."
There he was, undoubtedly. A wolf of the largest size with one of his
feet in the trap. He was a terrible-looking object, for, besides his
immense size and naturally ferocious aspect, his white hair bristled on
end and was all covered with streaks and spots of blood from his bloody
jaws. In his efforts to escape he had bitten the trap until he had
broken his teeth and lacerated his gums, so that his appearance was
hideous in the extreme. And when the two men came up he struggled with
all his might to fly at them.
Cameron and Joe stood looking at him in a sort of wondering admiration.
"We'd better put a ball in him," suggested Joe after a time. "Mayhap
the chain won't stand sich tugs long."
"True, Joe; if it breaks we might get an ugly nip before we killed him."
So saying Cameron fired into the wolf's head and killed it. It was
found, on examination, that four wolves had been in the traps, but the
rest had escaped. Two of them, however, had gnawed off their paws and
left them lying in the traps.
After this the big wolves did not trouble them again. The same
afternoon, a bear-hunt was undertaken, which well-nigh cost one of the
Iroquois his life. It happened thus:--
While Cameron and Joe were away after the white wolves, Henri came
floundering into camp tossing his arms like a maniac, and shouting that
"seven bars wos be down in de bush close bye!" It chanced that this was
an idle day with most of the men, so they all leaped on their horses,
and taking guns and knives sallied forth to give battle to the bears.
Arrived at the scene of action they found the seven bears busily engaged
in digging up roots, so the men separated in order to surround them, and
then closed in. The place was partly open and partly covered with thick
bushes into which a horseman could not penetrate. The moment the bears
got wind of what was going forward they made off as fast as possible,
and then commenced a scene of firing, galloping, and yelling, that
defies description! Four out of the seven were shot before they gained
the bushes; the other three were wounded, but made good their retreat.
As their places of shelter, however, were like islands in the plain,
they had no chance of escaping.
The horsemen now dismounted and dashed recklessly into the bushes, where
they soon discovered and killed two of the bears; the third was not
found for some time. At last an Iroquois came upon it so suddenly that
he had not time to point his gun before the bear sprang upon him and
struck him to the earth, where it held him down.
Instantly the place was surrounded by eager men, but the bushes were so
thick and the fallen trees among which the bear stood were so numerous,
that they could not use their guns without running the risk of shooting
their companion. Most of them drew their knives and seemed about to
rush on the bear with these, but the monster's aspect, as it glared
round, was so terrible that they held back for a moment in hesitation.
At this moment Henri, who had been at some distance engaged in the
killing of one of the other bears, came rushing forward after his own
peculiar manner.
"Ah! fat is eet--hay? de bar no go under yit?"
Just then his eye fell on the wounded Iroquois with the bear above him,
and he uttered a yell so intense in tone that the bear himself seemed to
feel that something decisive was about to be done at last. Henri did
not pause, but with a flying dash he sprang like a spread eagle, arms
and legs extended, right into the bear's bosom. At the same moment he
sent his long hunting-knife down into its heart. But Bruin is
proverbially hard to kill, and although mortally wounded, he had
strength enough to open his jaws and close them on Henri's neck.
There was a cry of horror, and at the same moment a volley was fired at
the bear's head, for the trappers felt that it was better to risk
shooting their comrades than see them killed before their eyes.
Fortunately the bullets took effect, and tumbled him over at once
without doing damage to either of the men, although several of the balls
just grazed Henri's temple and carried off his cap.
Although uninjured by the shot, the poor Iroquois had not escaped
scatheless from the paw of the bear. His scalp was torn almost off, and
hung down over his eyes, while blood streamed down his face. He was
conveyed by his comrades to the camp, where he lay two days in a state
of insensibility, at the end of which time he revived and recovered
daily. Afterwards when the camp moved he had to be carried, but in the
course of two months he was as well as ever, and quite as fond of
bear-hunting!
Among other trophies of this hunt there were two deer, and a buffalo,
which last had probably strayed from the herd. Four or five Iroquois
were round this animal whetting their knives for the purpose of cutting
it up when Henri passed, so he turned aside to watch them perform the
operation, quite regardless of the fact that his neck and face were
covered with blood which flowed from one or two small punctures made by
the bear.
The Indians began by taking off the skin, which certainly did not occupy
them more than five minutes. Then they cut up the meat and made a pack
of it, and cut out the tongue, which is somewhat troublesome, as that
member requires to be cut out from under the jaw of the animal, and not
through the natural opening of the mouth. One of the fore-legs was cut
off at the knee joint, and this was used as a hammer with which to break
the skull for the purpose of taking out the brains, these being used in
the process of dressing and softening the animal's skin. An axe would
have been of advantage to break the skull, but in the hurry of rushing
to the attack the Indians had forgotten their axes, so they adopted the
common fashion of using the buffalo's hoof as a hammer, the shank being
the handle. The whole operation of flaying, cutting up, and packing the
meat, did not occupy more than twenty minutes. Before leaving the
ground these expert butchers treated themselves to a little of the
marrow and warm liver in a raw state!
Cameron and Joe walked up to the group while they were indulging in this
little feast.
"Well, I've often seen that eaten, but I never could do it myself,"
remarked the former.
"No!" cried Joe in surprise; "now that's oncommon cur'us. I've _lived_
on raw liver an' marrow-bones for two or three days at a time, when we
wos chased by the Camanchee Injuns and didn't dare to make a fire, an'
it's ra'al good it is. Won't ye try it _now_?"
Cameron shook his head.
"No, thankee; I'll not refuse when I can't help it, but until then I'll
remain in happy ignorance of how good it is."
"Well, it _is_ strange how some folk can't abide anything in the meat
way they han't bin used to. D'ye know I've actually knowd men from the
cities as wouldn't eat a bit o' horseflesh for love or money. Would ye
believe it?"
"I can well believe that, Joe, for I have met with such persons myself;
in fact, they are rather numerous. What are you chuckling at, Joe?"
"Chucklin'? if ye mean be that `larfin' in to myself' it's because I'm
thinkin' o' a chap as once comed out to the prairies."
"Let us walk back to the camp, Joe, and you can tell me about him as we
go along."
"I think," continued Joe, "he comed from Washington, but I never could
make out right whether he wos a government man or not. Anyhow, he wos a
pheelosopher--a natter-list I think he call his-self."
"A naturalist," suggested Cameron.
"Ay, that wos more like it. Well, he wos about six feet two in his
moccasins, an' as thin as a ramrod, an' as blind as a bat--leastways he
had weak eyes an wore green spectacles. He had on a grey shootin' coat
and trousers and vest and cap, with rid whiskers an' a long nose as rid
at the point as the whiskers wos.
"Well, this gentleman engaged me an' another hunter to go a trip with
him into the prairies, so off we sot one fine day on three hosses with
our blankets at our backs--we wos to depend on the rifle for victuals.
At first I thought the Natter-list one o' the cruellest beggars as iver
went on two long legs, for he used to go about everywhere pokin' pins
through all the beetles, and flies, an' creepin' things he could sot
eyes on, an' stuck them in a box; but he told me he comed here a-purpose
to git as many o' them as he could; so says I, `If that's it, I'll fill
yer box in no time.'
"`Will ye?' says he, quite pleased like.
"`I will,' says I, an' galloped off to a place as was filled wi' all
sorts o' crawlin' things. So I sets to work, and whenever I seed a
thing crawlin' I sot my fut on it and crushed it, and soon filled my
breast pocket. I coched a lot o' butterflies too, an' stuffed them into
my shot pouch, and went back in an hour or two an' showed him the lot.
He put on his green spectacles and looked at them as if he'd seen a
rattlesnake.
"`My good man,' says he, `you've crushed them all to pieces!'
"`They'll taste as good for all that,' says I, for somehow I'd taken't
in me head that he'd heard o' the way the Injuns make soup o' the
grasshoppers, an was wantin' to try his hand at a new dish!
"He laughed when I said this, an' told me he wos collectin' them to take
home to be _looked_ at. But that's not wot I wos goin' to tell ye about
him," continued Joe; "I wos goin' to tell ye how we made him eat
horseflesh. He carried a revolver, too, this Natter-list did, to load
wi' shot as small as dust a-most, and shoot little birds with. I've
seed him miss birds only three feet away with it. An' one day he drew
it all of a suddent and let fly at a big bum-bee that wos passin',
yellin' out that it wos the finest wot he had iver seed. He missed the
bee, of coorse, cause it was a flyin' shot, he said, but he sent the
whole charge right into Martin's back--Martin was my comrade's name. By
good luck Martin had on a thick leather coat, so the shot niver got the
length o' his skin.
"One day I noticed that the Natter-list had stuffed small corks into the
muzzles of all the six barrels of his revolver. I wondered what they
wos for, but he wos al'ays doin' sich queer _things_ that I soon forgot
it. `May be,' thought I, jist before it went out o' my mind,--`may be
he thinks that 'll stop the pistol from goin' off by accident,' for ye
must know he'd let it off three times the first day by accident, and
well-nigh blowed off his leg the last time, only the shot lodged in the
back o' a big toad he'd jist stuffed into his breeches' pocket. Well,
soon after, we shot a buffalo bull, so when it fell, off he jumps from
his horse an runs up to it. So did I, for I wasn't sure the beast was
dead, an' I had jist got up when it rose an' rushed at the Natter-list.
"`Out o' the way,' I yelled, for my rifle was empty; but he didn't move,
so I rushed forward an' drew the pistol out o' his belt and let fly in
the bull's ribs jist as it ran the poor man down. Martin came up that
moment an' put a ball through its heart, and then we went to pick up the
Natter-list. He came to in a little, an' the first thing he said was,
`Where's my revolver?' When I gave it to him he looked at it, an' said
with a solemcholy shake o' the head, `There's a whole barrel-full lost!'
It turned out that he had taken to usin' the barrels for bottles to
hold things in, but he forgot to draw the charges, so sure enough I had
fired a charge o' bum-bees, an' beetles, an' small shot into the
buffalo!
"But that's not what I wos goin' to tell ye yet. We comed to a part o'
the plains where we wos well-nigh starved for want o' game, an' the
Natter-list got so thin that ye could a-most see through him, so I
offered to kill my horse, an' cut it up for meat; but you niver saw sich
a face he made. `I'd rather die first,' says he, `than eat it;' so we
didn't kill it. But that very day Martin got a shot at a wild horse and
killed it. The Natter-list was down in the bed o' a creek at the time
gropin' for creepers, an' he didn't see it.
"`He'll niver eat it,' says Martin.
"`That's true,' says I.
"`Let's tell him it's a buffalo,' says he.
"`That would be tellin' a lie,' says I.
"So we stood lookin' at each other, not knowin' what to do.
"`I'll tell ye what,' cries Martin, `we'll cut it up, and take the meat
into camp and cook it without _sayin' a word_.'
"`Done,' says I, `that's it;' for ye must know the poor creature wos no
judge o' meat. He couldn't tell one kind from another, an' he niver
axed questions. In fact he niver a-most spoke to us all the trip.
Well, we cut up the horse and carried the flesh and marrow-bones into
camp, takin' care to leave the hoofs and skin behind, and sot to work
and roasted steaks and marrow-bones.
"When the Natter-list came back ye should ha' seen the joyful face he
put on when he smelt the grub, for he was all but starved out, poor
critter.
"`What have we got here?' cried he, rubbin' his hands and sittin' down.
"`Steaks an' marrow-bones,' says Martin.
"`Capital!' says he. `I'm _so_ hungry.'
"So he fell to work like a wolf. I niver seed a man pitch into anything
like as that Natter-list did into that horseflesh.
"`These are first-rate marrow-bones,' says he, squintin' with one eye
down the shin bone o' the hind-leg to see if it was quite empty.
"`Yes, sir, they is,' answered Martin, as grave as a judge.
"`Take another, sir,' says I.
"`No, thankee,' says he with a sigh, for he didn't like to leave off.
"Well, we lived for a week on horseflesh, an' first-rate livin' it wos;
then we fell in with buffalo, an' niver ran short again till we got to
the settlements, when he paid us our money an' shook hands, sayin' we'd
had a nice trip an' he wished us well. Jist as we wos partin' I said,
says I, `D'ye know what it wos we lived on for a week arter we wos
well-nigh starved in the prairies?'
"`What,' says he, `when we got yon capital marrow-bones?'
"`The same,' says I; `yon was _horseflesh_,' says I, `an' I think ye'll
sur'ly niver say again that it isn't first-rate livin'.'
"`Yer jokin',' says he, turnin' pale.
"`It's true, sir, as true as yer standin' there.'
"Well, would ye believe it; he turned--that Natter-list did--as sick as
a dog on the spot wot he wos standin' on, an' didn't taste meat again
for three days!"
Shortly after the conclusion of Joe's story they reached the camp, and
here they found the women and children flying about in a state of
terror, and the few men who had been left in charge arming themselves in
the greatest haste.
"Hallo! something wrong here," cried Cameron hastening forward followed
by Joe. "What has happened, eh?"
"Injuns comin', monsieur, look dere," answered a trapper, pointing down
the valley.
"Arm and mount at once, and come to the front of the camp," cried
Cameron in a tone of voice that silenced every other, and turned
confusion into order.
The cause of all this outcry was a cloud of dust seen far down the
valley, which was raised by a band of mounted Indians who approached the
camp at full speed. Their numbers could not be made out, but they were
a sufficiently formidable band to cause much anxiety to Cameron, whose
men, at the time, were scattered to the various trapping grounds, and
only ten chanced to be within call of the camp. However, with these ten
he determined to show a bold front to the savages, whether they came as
friends or foes. He therefore ordered the women and children within the
citadel formed of the goods and packs of furs piled upon each other,
which point of retreat was to be defended to the last extremity. Then
galloping to the front he collected his men and swept down the valley at
full speed. In a few minutes they were near enough to observe that the
enemy only numbered four Indians, who were driving a band of about a
hundred horses before them, and so busy were they in keeping the troop
together that Cameron and his men were close upon them before they were
observed.
It was too late to escape. Joe Blunt and Henri had already swept round
and cut off their retreat. In this extremity the Indians slipped from
the backs of their steeds and darted into the bushes, where they were
safe from pursuit, at least on horseback, while the trappers got behind
the horses and drove them towards the camp.
At this moment one of the horses sprang ahead of the others and made for
the mountain, with its mane and tail flying wildly in the breeze.
"Marrow-bones and buttons!" shouted one of the men, "there goes Dick
Varley's horse."
"So it am!" cried Henri, and dashed off in pursuit, followed by Joe and
two others.
"Why, these are our own horses," said Cameron in surprise, as they drove
them into a corner of the hills from which they could not escape.
This was true, but it was only half the truth, for, besides their own
horses, they had secured upwards of seventy Indian steeds, a most
acceptable addition to their stud, which, owing to casualties and
wolves, had been diminishing too much of late. The fact was, that the
Indians who had captured the horses belonging to Pierre and his party
were a small band of robbers who had travelled, as was afterwards
learned, a considerable distance from the south, stealing horses from
various tribes as they went along. As we have seen, in an evil hour
they fell in with Pierre's party and carried off their steeds, which
they drove to a pass leading from one valley to the other. Here they
united them with the main band of their ill-gotten gains, and while the
greater number of the robbers descended further into the plains in
search of more booty, four of them were sent into the mountains with the
horses already procured. These four, utterly ignorant of the presence
of white men in the valley, drove their charge, as we have seen, almost
into the camp.
Cameron immediately organised a party to go out in search of Pierre and
his companions, about whose fate he became intensely anxious, and in the
course of half an hour as many men as he could spare with safety were
despatched in the direction of the Blue Mountains.