SAVAGE SPORTS--LIVING CATARACTS--AN ALARM--INDIANS AND THEIR DOINGS--THE
STAMPEDO--CHARLIE AGAIN.
One day Dick Varley was out on a solitary hunting expedition near the
rocky gorge, where his horse had received temporary burial a week or two
before. Crusoe was with him, of course. Dick had tied Charlie to a
tree, and was sunning himself on the edge of a cliff, from the top of
which he had a fine view of the valley and the rugged precipices that
hemmed it in.
Just in front of the spot on which he sat, the precipices on the
opposite side of the gorge rose to a considerable height above him, so
that their ragged outlines were drawn sharply across the clear sky.
Dick was gazing in dreamy silence at the jutting rocks and dark caverns,
and speculating on the probable number of bears that dwelt there, when a
slight degree of restlessness on the part of Crusoe attracted him.
"What is't, pup?" said he, laying his hand on the dog's broad back.
Crusoe looked the answer, "I don't know, Dick, but it's _something_, you
may depend upon it, else I would not have disturbed you."
Dick lifted his rifle from the ground, and laid it in the hollow of his
left arm.
"There must be something in the wind," remarked Dick.
As wind is known to be composed of two distinct gases, Crusoe felt
perfectly safe in replying "Yes," with his tail. Immediately after he
added, "Hallo! did you hear that?"--with his ears.
Dick did hear it, and sprang hastily to his feet, as a sound like, yet
unlike, distant thunder came faintly down upon the breeze. In a few
seconds the sound increased to a roar in which was mingled the wild
cries of men. Neither Dick nor Crusoe moved, for the sounds came from
behind the heights in front of them, and they felt that the only way to
solve the question, "What can the sounds be?" was to wait till the
sounds should solve it themselves.
Suddenly the muffled sounds gave place to the distinct bellowing of
cattle, the clatter of innumerable hoofs, and the yells of savage men,
while at the same moment the edges of the opposite cliffs became alive
with Indians and buffaloes rushing about in frantic haste--the former
almost mad with savage excitement, the latter with blind rage and
terror.
On reaching the edge of the dizzy precipice, the buffaloes turned
abruptly and tossed their ponderous heads as they coursed along the
edge. Yet a few of them, unable to check their headlong course, fell
over, and were dashed to pieces on the rocks below. Such falls, Dick
observed, were hailed with shouts of delight by the Indians, whose sole
object evidently was to enjoy the sport of driving the terrified animals
over the precipice. The wily savages had chosen their ground well for
this purpose.
The cliff immediately opposite to Dick Varley was a huge projection from
the precipice that hemmed in the gorge, or species of cape or promontory
several hundred yards wide at the base, and narrowing abruptly to a
point. The sides of this wedge-shaped projection were quite
perpendicular; indeed, in some places the top overhung the base, and
they were at least three hundred feet high. Broken and jagged rocks, of
that peculiarly chaotic character which probably suggested the name to
this part of the great American chain, projected from, and were
scattered all round, the cliffs. Over these the Indians, whose numbers
increased every moment, strove to drive the luckless herd of buffaloes
that had chanced to fall in their way. The task was easy. The
unsuspecting animals, of which there were hundreds, rushed in a dense
mass upon the cape referred to. On they came with irresistible
impetuosity, bellowing furiously, while their hoofs thundered on the
turf with the muffled continuous roar of a distant, but mighty
cataract--the Indians, meanwhile, urging them on by hideous yell and
frantic gesture.
The advance-guard came bounding madly to the edge of the precipice.
Here they stopped short, and gazed affrighted at the gulf below. It was
but for a moment. The irresistible momentum of the flying mass behind
pushed them over. Down they came, absolutely a living cataract, upon
the rocks below. Some struck on the projecting rocks in the descent,
and their bodies were dashed almost in pieces, while their blood spurted
out in showers. Others leaped from rock to rock with awful bounds,
until, losing their foot-hold, they fell headlong, while others
descended sheer down into the sweltering mass that lay shattered at the
base of the cliffs.
Dick Varley and his dog remained rooted to the rock, as they gazed at
the sickening sight, as if petrified. Scarce fifty of that noble herd
of buffaloes escaped the awful leap, but they escaped only to fall
before the arrows of their ruthless pursuers. Dick had often heard of
this tendency of the Indians, where buffaloes were very numerous, to
drive them over precipices in mere wanton sport and cruelty, but he had
never seen it until now, and the sight filled his soul with horror. It
was not until the din and tumult of the perishing herd and the shrill
yells of the Indians had almost died away that he turned to quit the
spot. But the instant he did so another shout was raised. The savages
had observed him, and were seen galloping along the cliffs towards the
head of the gorge, with the obvious intention of gaining the other side
and capturing him. Dick sprang on Charlie's back, and the next instant
was flying down the valley towards the camp.
He did not, however, fear being overtaken, for the gorge could not be
crossed, and the way round the head of it was long and rugged; but he
was anxious to alarm the camp as quickly as possible, so that they might
have time to call in the more distant trappers and make preparations for
defence.
"Where away now, youngster," inquired Cameron, emerging from his tent as
Dick, taking the brook that flowed in front at a flying leap, came
crashing through the bushes into the midst of the fur-packs at full
speed.
"Injuns!" ejaculated Dick, reining up, and vaulting out of the saddle.
"Hundreds of 'em. Fiends incarnate every one!"
"Are they near?"
"Yes; an hour 'll bring them down on us. Are Joe and Henri far from
camp to-day?"
"At Ten-mile Creek," replied Cameron with an expression of bitterness,
as he caught up his gun and shouted to several men, who hurried up on
seeing our hero's burst into camp.
"Ten-mile Creek!" muttered Dick. "I'll bring 'em in, though," he
continued, glancing at several of the camp horses that grazed close at
hand.
In another moment he was on Charlie's back, the line of one of the best
horses was in his hand, and almost before Cameron knew what he was about
he was flying down the valley like the wind. Charlie often stretched
out at full speed to please his young master, but seldom had he been
urged forward as he was upon this occasion. The led horse being light
and wild, kept well up, and, in a marvellously short space of time, they
were at Ten-mile Creek.
"Hallo, Dick, wot's to do?" inquired Joe Blunt, who was up to his knees
in the water, setting a trap at the moment his friend galloped up.
"Injuns! Where's Henri?" demanded Dick.
"At the head o' the dam there."
Dick was off in a moment, and almost instantly returned with Henri
galloping beside him.
No word was spoken. In time of action these men did not waste words.
During Dick's momentary absence, Joe Blunt had caught up his rifle and
examined the priming, so that when Dick pulled up beside him, he merely
laid his hand on the saddle, saying, "All right!" as he vaulted on
Charlie's back behind his young companion. In another moment they were
away at full speed. The mustang seemed to feel that unwonted exertions
were required of him. Double weighted though he was, he kept well up
with the other horse, and in less than two hours after Dick's leaving
the camp the three hunters came in sight of it.
Meanwhile Cameron had collected nearly all his forces, and put his camp
in a state of defence before the Indians arrived, which they did
suddenly, and, as usual, at full gallop, to the amount of at least two
hundred. They did not at first seem disposed to hold friendly
intercourse with the trappers, but assembled in a semicircle round the
camp in a menacing attitude, while one of their chiefs stepped forward
to hold a palaver. For some time the conversation on both sides was
polite enough, but by degrees the Indian chief assumed an imperious
tone, and demanded gifts from the trappers, taking care to enforce his
request by hinting that thousands of his countrymen were not far
distant. Cameron stoutly refused, and the palaver threatened to come to
an abrupt and unpleasant termination just at the time that Dick and his
friends appeared on the scene of action.
The brook was cleared at a bound; the three hunters leaped from their
steeds and sprang to the front with a degree of energy that had a
visible effect on the savages, and Cameron, seizing the moment, proposed
that the two parties should smoke a pipe and hold a council. The
Indians agreed, and in a few minutes they were engaged in animated and
friendly intercourse. The speeches were long, and the compliments paid
on either side were inflated, and, we fear, undeserved; but the result
of the interview was, that Cameron made the Indians a present of tobacco
and a few trinkets, and sent them back to their friends to tell them
that he was willing to trade with them.
Next day the whole tribe arrived in the valley, and pitched their
deerskin tents on the plain opposite to the camp of the white men.
Their numbers far exceeded Cameron's expectation, and it was with some
anxiety that he proceeded to strengthen his fortifications as much as
circumstances and the nature of the ground would admit.
The Indian camp, which numbered upwards of a thousand souls, was
arranged with great regularity, and was divided into three distinct
sections, each section being composed of a separate tribe. The Great
Snake Nation at that time embraced three tribes or divisions--namely,
the Shirry-dikas, or dog-eaters; the War-are-ree-kas, or fish-eaters;
and the Banattees, or robbers. These were the most numerous and
powerful Indians on the west side of the Rocky Mountains. The
Shirry-dikas dwelt in the plains, and hunted the buffaloes; dressed
well; were cleanly; rich in horses; bold, independent, and good
warriors. The War-are-ree-kas lived chiefly by fishing, and were found
on the banks of the rivers and lakes throughout the country. They were
more corpulent, slovenly, and indolent than the Shirry-dikas, and more
peaceful. The Banattees, as we have before mentioned, were the robbers
of the mountains. They were a wild and contemptible race, and at enmity
with every one. In summer they went about nearly naked. In winter they
clothed themselves in the skins of rabbits and wolves. Being excellent
mimics, they could imitate the howling of wolves, the neighing of
horses, and the cries of birds, by which means they could approach
travellers, rob them, and then fly to their rocky fastnesses in the
mountains, where pursuit was vain.
Such were the men who now assembled in front of the camp of the
fur-traders, and Cameron soon found that the news of his presence in the
country had spread far and wide among the natives, bringing them to the
neighbourhood of his camp in immense crowds, so that, during the next
few days, their numbers increased to thousands.
Several long palavers quickly ensued between the red men and the white,
and the two great chiefs who seemed to hold despotic rule over the
assembled tribes were extremely favourable to the idea of universal
peace which was propounded to them. In several set speeches of great
length and very considerable power, these natural orators explained
their willingness to enter into amicable relations with all the
surrounding nations as well as with the white men.
"But," said Pee-eye-em, the chief of the Shirry-dikas, a man above six
feet high, and of immense muscular strength,--"but my tribe cannot
answer for the Banattees, who are robbers, and cannot be punished,
because they dwell in scattered families among the mountains. The
Banattees are bad; they cannot be trusted."
None of the Banattees were present at the council when this was said;
and if they had been it would have mattered little, for they were
neither fierce nor courageous, although bold enough in their own haunts
to murder and rob the unwary.
The second chief did not quite agree with Pee-eye-em; he said that it
was impossible for them to make peace with their natural enemies, the
Peigans and the Blackfeet on the east side of the mountains. It was
very desirable, he admitted, but neither of these tribes would consent
to it, he felt sure.
Upon this Joe blunt rose and said, "The great chief of the
War-are-ree-kas is wise, and knows that enemies cannot be reconciled
unless deputies are sent to make proposals of peace."
"The Pale-face does not know the Blackfeet," answered the chief. "Who
will go into the lands of the Blackfeet? My young men have been sent
once and again, and their scalps are now fringes to the leggings of
their enemies. The War-are-ree-kas do not cross the mountains but for
the purpose of making war."
"The chief speaks truth," returned Joe, "yet there are three men round
the council-fire who will go to the Blackfeet and the Peigans with
messages of peace from the Snakes if they wish it."
Joe pointed to himself, Henri, and Dick as he spoke, and added, "We
three do not belong to the camp of the fur-traders; we only lodge with
them for a time. The Great Chief of the white men has sent us to make
peace with the Red-men, and to tell them that he desires to trade with
them--to exchange hatchets, and guns, and blankets for furs."
This declaration interested the two chiefs greatly, and after a good
deal of discussion they agreed to take advantage of Joe Blunt's offer,
and appoint him as a deputy to the court of their enemies. Having
arranged these matters to their satisfaction, Cameron bestowed a red
flag and a blue surtout with brass buttons on each of the chiefs, and a
variety of smaller articles on the other members of the council, and
sent them away in a particularly amiable frame of mind.
Pee-eye-em burst the blue surtout at the shoulders and elbows in putting
it on, as it was much too small for his gigantic frame, but, never
having seen such an article of apparel before, he either regarded this
as the natural and proper consequence of putting it on, or was totally
indifferent to it, for he merely looked at the rents with a smile of
satisfaction, while his squaw surreptitiously cut off the two back
buttons and thrust them into her bosom.
By the time the council closed the night was far advanced, and a bright
moon was shedding a flood of soft light over the picturesque and busy
scene.
"I'll go to the Injun camp," said Joe to Walter Cameron, as the chiefs
rose to depart. "The season's far enough advanced already; it's time to
be off; and if I'm to speak for the Red-skins in the Blackfeet Council,
I'd need to know what to say."
"Please yourself, Master Blunt," answered Cameron. "I like your company
and that of your friends, and if it suited you I would be glad to take
you along with us to the coast of the Pacific; but your mission among
the Indians is a good one, and I'll help it on all I can. I suppose you
will go also?" he added, turning to Dick Varley, who was still seated
beside the council-fire caressing Crusoe.
"Wherever Joe goes, I go," answered Dick.
Crusoe's tail, ears and eyes demonstrated high approval of the sentiment
involved in this speech.
"And your friend Henri?"
"He goes too," answered Joe. "It's as well that the Red-skins should
see the three o' us before we start for the east side o' the mountains.
Ho! Henri, come here, lad."
Henri obeyed, and in a few seconds the three friends crossed the brook
to the Indian camp, and were guided to the principal lodge by
Pee-eye-em. Here a great council was held, and the proposed attempt at
negotiations for peace with their ancient enemies fully discussed.
While they were thus engaged, and just as Pee-eye-em had, in the energy
of an enthusiastic peroration burst the blue surtout _almost_ up to the
collar, a distant rushing sound was heard, which caused every man to
spring to his feet, run out of the tent, and seize his weapons.
"What can it be, Joe?" whispered Dick, as they stood at the tent door
leaning on their rifles, and listening intently.
"Dunno," answered Joe shortly.
Most of the numerous fires of the camp had gone out, but the bright moon
revealed the dusky forms of thousands of Indians, whom the unwonted
sound had startled, moving rapidly about.
The mystery was soon explained. The Indian camp was pitched on an open
plain of several miles in extent, which took a sudden bend half a mile
distant, where a spur of the mountains shut out the further end of the
valley from view. From beyond this point the dull rumbling sound
proceeded. Suddenly there was a roar as if a mighty cataract had been
let loose upon the scene. At the same moment a countless herd of wild
horses came thundering round the base of the mountain and swept over the
plain straight towards the Indian camp.
"A stampedo!" cried Joe, springing to the assistance of Pee-eye-em,
whose favourite horses were picketted near the tent.
On they came like a living torrent, and the thunder of a thousand hoofs
was soon mingled with the howling of hundreds of dogs in the camp, and
the yelling of Indians, as they vainly endeavoured to restrain the
rising excitement of their steeds. Henri and Dick stood rooted to the
ground, gazing in silent wonder at the fierce and uncontrollable gallop
of the thousands of panic-stricken horses that bore down upon the camp
with the tumultuous violence of a mighty cataract.
As the maddened troop drew nigh, the camp horses began to snort and
tremble violently, and when the rush of the wild steeds was almost upon
them, they became ungovernable with terror, broke their halters and
hobbles, and dashed wildly about. To add to the confusion at that
moment, a cloud passed over the moon and threw the whole scene into deep
obscurity. Blind with terror, which was probably increased by the din
of their own mad flight, the galloping troop came on, and, with a sound
like the continuous roar of thunder that for an instant drowned the yell
of dog and man, they burst upon the camp, trampling over packs and
skins, and dried meat, etcetera, in their headlong speed, and
overturning several of the smaller tents. In another moment they swept
out upon the plain beyond, and were soon lost in the darkness of the
night, while the yelping of dogs, as they vainly pursued them, mingled
and gradually died away with the distant thunder of their retreat.
This was a "_stampedo_," one of the most extraordinary scenes that can
be witnessed in the western wilderness.
"Lend a hand, Henri," shouted Joe, who was struggling with a powerful
horse. "Wot's comed over yer brains, man? This brute 'll git off if ye
don't look sharp."
Dick and Henri both answered to the summons, and they succeeded in
throwing the struggling animal on its side and holding it down until its
excitement was somewhat abated. Pee-eye-em had also been successful in
securing his favourite hunter, but nearly every other horse belonging to
the camp had broken loose and joined the whirlwind gallop, but they
gradually dropped out, and, before morning, the most of them were
secured by their owners. As there were at least two thousand horses and
an equal number of dogs in the part of the Indian camp which had been
thus over-run by the wild mustangs, the turmoil, as may be imagined, was
prodigious! Yet, strange to say, no accident of a serious nature
occurred beyond the loss of several chargers.
In the midst of this exciting scene there was one heart there which beat
with a nervous vehemence that well-nigh burst it. This was the heart of
Dick Varley's horse, Charlie. Well-known to him was that distant
rumbling sound that floated on the night air into the fur-trader's camp
where he was picketted close to Cameron's tent. Many a time had he
heard the approach of such a wild troop, and often, in days not long
gone by, had his shrill neigh rung out as he joined and led the
panic-stricken band. He was first to hear the sound, and by his restive
actions, to draw the attention of the fur-traders to it. As a
precautionary measure they all sprang up and stood by their horses to
soothe them, but as a brook with a belt of bushes and quarter of a mile
of plain intervened between their camp and the mustangs as they flew
past, they had little or no trouble in restraining them. Not so,
however, with Charlie. At the very moment that his master was
congratulating himself on the supposed security of his position, he
wrenched the halter from the hand of him who held it, burst through the
barrier of felled trees that had been thrown round the camp, cleared the
brook at a bound, and, with a wild hilarious neigh, resumed his old
place in the ranks of the free-born mustangs of the prairie.
Little did Dick think, when the flood of horses swept past him, that his
own good steed was there, rejoicing in his recovered liberty. But
Crusoe knew it. Ay, the wind had borne down the information to his
acute nose before the living storm burst upon the camp, and when Charlie
rushed past with the long tough halter trailing at his heels, Crusoe
sprang to his side, seized the end of the halter with his teeth, and
galloped off along with him.
It was a long gallop and a tough one, but Crusoe held on, for it was a
settled principle in his mind _never_ to give in. At first the check
upon Charlie's speed was imperceptible, but by degrees the weight of the
gigantic dog began to tell, and, after a time, they fell a little to the
rear; then, by good fortune, the troop passed through a mass of
underwood, and the line, getting entangled, brought their mad career
forcibly to a close; the mustangs passed on, and the two friends were
left to keep each other company in the dark.
How long they would have remained thus is uncertain, for neither of them
had sagacity enough to undo a complicated entanglement; fortunately,
however, in his energetic tugs at the line, Crusoe's sharp teeth
partially severed it, and a sudden start on the part of Charlie caused
it to part. Before he could escape, Crusoe again seized the end of it
and led him slowly but steadily back to the Indian camp, never halting
or turning aside until he had placed the line in Dick Varley's hand.
"Hallo, pup! where have ye bin. How did ye bring him here?" exclaimed
Dick, as he gazed in amazement at his foam-covered horse.
Crusoe wagged his tail, as if to say, "Be thankful that you've got him,
Dick, my boy, and don't ask questions that you know I can't answer."
"He must ha' broke loose and jined the stampedo," remarked Joe, coming
out of the chief's tent at the moment; "but tie him up, Dick, and come
in, for we want to settle about startin' to-morrow or nixt day."
Having fastened Charlie to a stake, and ordered Crusoe to watch him,
Dick re-entered the tent where the council had re-assembled, and where
Pee-eye-em--having, in the recent struggle, split the blue surtout
completely up to the collar, so that his backbone was visible throughout
the greater part of its length--was holding forth in eloquent strains on
the subject of peace in general and peace with the Blackfeet, the
ancient enemies of the Shirry-dikas, in particular.