"Ease off a bit, Master Bart," cried Joses, after they had all been
riding at full gallop for a couple of miles over the plains. "Whoo--
hoop, my Injun friends! Whoo--hoop!"
"Whoo-hoop! whoo-hoop! whoo-hoop!" yelled back the Indians, excitedly;
and taking it as an incentive to renewed exertion, they pressed the
flanks of their horses, which responded freely, and they swept on more
swiftly still.
"Tell Beaver to stop a bit," cried Joses; "you're nighest to him, my
lad." And Bart was about to shout some words to the chief, who was on
his other side, riding with eyes flashing with excitement, and every
nerve on the throb, thoroughly enjoying the wild race after so long a
time of inaction in the camp. And it was not only the riders who
enjoyed the racing; the horses seemed to revel in it, all tossing their
massive manes and snorting loudly with delight, while swift as they went
they were always so well-prepared that they would try to kick each other
whenever two were in anything like close proximity.
Bart shouted to the Beaver to check his pace, but he was misunderstood,
and the party swept on, whooping with delight, for all the world like a
pack of excited schoolboys just let loose for a holiday.
"We shall have our nags regularly blown, my lad," panted Joses;--"and
then if we come upon unfriendly Injuns it'll be the worse for us. Let's
you and me draw rein, then they'll stop."
A pause in the mad gallop came without the inciting of Bart and his
follower, for all at once one of the Indians' horses planted his hoof in
a gopher hole, cunningly contrived by the rat-like creature just in the
open part of the plain; and unable to recover itself or check its
headlong speed, the horse turned a complete somersault, throwing his
rider right over his head quite twenty feet away, and as the rest drew
rein and gathered round, it seemed for the time as if both pony and
rider were killed.
Bart leaped down to go to the poor fellow's help, but just as the lad
reached him, the Indian, who had been lying flat upon his back, suddenly
sat up, shook his head, and stared round in bewilderment. The next
moment he had caught sight of his steed, and leaped to his feet to run
and catch the rein just as the pony was struggling up.
As the pony regained its feet the Indian leaped upon its back, while the
sturdy little animal gave itself a shake that seemed to be like one
gigantic quiver, beginning at its broad inflated nostrils, and ending
with the rugged strands of its great thick uncombed tail.
Just then the Beaver uttered a yell, and away the whole party swept
again, the Indian who had fallen seeming in no wise the worse for his
encounter with the sandy earth.
"That's where the Indian gets the better of the white man, Master Bart.
A fall like that would have about knocked all the life out of me. It's
my belief them Injuns likes it, and so you see they can bear so much
that they grow hard to clear away; and in spite of our being so much
more knowing, they're often too much for us."
"But had we not better pull up, Joses?" cried Bart, for they were
tearing along over the plain once more at a tremendous gallop.
"It's no use to try, my lad; the horses won't stop and leave them others
galloping on. You may train horses as much as you like, but there's a
lot of nature left in them, and that you can't eddicate out."
"What do you mean?" panted Bart, for it was hard work riding so fast.
"What do I mean, my boy? why, that horses is used to going in big droves
together, and this puts 'em in mind of it, and they like it. You try
and pull Black Boy in. There, I told you so. See how he gnaws at his
bit and pulls. There's no stopping him, my lad, no more than there is
mine. Let 'em go, my lad. Perhaps we mayn't meet any one we don't want
to meet after all."
Hardly had he spoken before the Beaver raised his arm, and his followers
pulled up as if by magic, forming in quite a small circle close to him,
with their horses' heads almost touching him.
The Beaver signed to Bart and Joses to approach, and room was made for
them to join in the little council which was to be held, and the result
was that being now well out in the plains far north of where they had
originally travelled to reach the mountain, they now headed off to the
west, the Indians separating, and opening out more and more so as to
cover wider ground with their keen eyes, while every little eminence was
climbed so that the horizon could be swept in search of bison.
"Do you think we shall meet with any, Joses?" asked Bart.
"What, buffler, my lad? Well, I hope so. There's never no knowing, for
they're queer beasts, and there's hundreds here to-day, and to-morrow
you may ride miles and miles, and not see a hoof. Why, I've known times
when I've come upon a drove that was miles long."
"Miles, Joses?"
"Yes, Master Bart, miles long. Bulls, and cows, and calves, of all
kinds, from little bits o' things, right up to some as was nearly as big
as their fathers and mothers, only not so rough and fat; and they'd go
on over the plain in little bands. If you was looking at 'em from far
off, it seemed like one great long drove that there was no counting, but
when you rode nearer to see, you found that what you took for one big
drove was only made up of hundreds of other droves--big families like of
fathers, and mothers, and children, which always kept themselves to
themselves and didn't mix with the others. Then all along outside the
flanks of the great drove of droves you'd see the wolves hanging about,
half-starved, fierce-looking vermin, licking their bare chops, and
waiting their chance to get something to eat."
"But wolves wouldn't attack the great bison, would they?" asked Bart.
"Only when they're about helpless--wounded or old, you know, then they
will. What they wolves is waiting for is for the young calves--little,
helpless sort of things that are always being left behind as the great
drove goes feeding on over the plains; and if you watch a drove, you'll
every now and then find a calf lying down, and its mother trying to coax
it to get up and follow the others, while the old cow keeps mooing and
making no end of a noise, and cocking up her tail, and making little
sets of charges at the wolves to drive them back whenever they get too
near. Ah, it's a rum sight to see the lank, fierce, hungry beasts
licking their chops, and thinking every now and then that they've got
the calf, for the old mother keeps going off a little way to try and
make the stupid cow baby get up and follow. Then the wolves make a
rush, and so does the buffalo, and away go the hungry beggars, for a
wolf is about as cowardly a thing as ever run on four legs, that he is."
"I should like to see a sight like that, Joses," said Bart; "how I would
shoot at the wolves!"
"What for?" said Joses.
"What for? Why, because they must be such cowardly, cruel beasts, to
try and kill the calves."
"So are we cowardly, cruel beasts, then," said Joses, philosophically.
"Wolves want to live same as humans, and it's all their nature. If they
didn't kill and keep down the buffler, the country would be all buffler,
and there wouldn't be room for a man to walk. It's all right, I tell
you; wolves kills buffler for food, and so do we. Why, you never
thought, praps, how bufflers fill up the country in some parts. I've
seen droves of 'em miles upon miles long, and if it wasn't for the
wolves and the Injun, as I said afore, there wouldn't be room for
anything else."
"Are there so many as you say, Joses?" asked Bart.
"Not now, my lad. There used to be, but they've been killed down a
deal. You see the Injun lives on 'em a'most. He cuts up and dries the
beef, and he makes himself buffler robes of the skins, and very nice
warm things they are in cold parts up in the mountains. I don't know
what the Injun would do if it wasn't for the buffler. He'd starve. Not
as that would be so very much consequence, as far as some tribes goes--
Comanches and Apaches, and them sort as lives by killing and murdering
every one they sees. Halloa! what's that mean?"
He pulled up, and shaded his eyes with his hand, to gaze at where one of
the Indians was evidently making some sign with his spear as he sat in a
peculiar way, right on their extreme left, upon an eminence in the
plain.
Bart looked eagerly on, so as to try and learn what this signal meant.
"Oh, I know," said Joses directly, as he saw the Beaver make his horse
circle round. "He can see a herd far out on the plain, and the Beaver
has just signalled him back; so ride on, my lad, and we may perhaps come
across a big run of the rough ones before the day is out."