The prairie traveller never sleeps after daybreak. He is usually astir
before that time. He has many "_chores_" to perform, unknown to the
ordinary traveller who rests in the roadside inn. He has to pack up his
tent and bed, cook his own breakfast, and saddle his horse. All this
requires time, therefore an early start is necessary.
We were on our feet before the sun had shown his disc above the
black-jacks. Lanty had the start of us, and had freshened up his fire.
Already the coffee-kettle was bubbling audibly, and the great frying-pan
perfumed the camp with an incense more agreeable than the odours of
Araby.
The raw air of the morning had brought everybody around the fire.
Thompson was pruning and cleansing his nails; the Kentuckian was cutting
a fresh "chunk" from his plug of "James's River;" the doctor had just
returned from the stream, where he had refreshed himself by a "nip" from
his pewter flask; Besancon was packing up his portfolios; the zoologist
was lighting his long pipe, and the "Captain" was looking to his
favourite horse, while inhaling the fragrance of an "Havannah." The
guides stood with their blankets hanging from their shoulders silent and
thoughtful.
In half an hour breakfast was over, the tents and utensils were restored
to the waggon, the horses were brought in and saddled, the mules
"hitched up," and the expedition once more on its way.
This day we made not quite so good a journey. The roads were heavier,
the country more thickly timbered, and the ground more hilly. We had
several small streams to ford, and this retarded our progress. Twenty
miles was the extent of our journey.
We encamped again without any of us having killed or seen game.
Although we had beaten the bushes on both sides of our course, nothing
bigger than the red-bird (scarlet tanager, _Pyranga rubra_), a screaming
jay, or an occasional flight of finches, gratified our sight.
We reached our camp somewhat disappointed. Even old Ike and Redwood
came into camp without game, alleging also that they had not met with
the sign of a living quadruped.
Our second camp was also on the bank of a small stream. Shortly after
our arrival on the ground, Thompson started out afoot, taking with him
his gun. He had noticed a tract of marsh at no great distance off. He
thought it promised well for snipe.
He had not been long gone, when two reports echoed back, and then
shortly after another and another. He had found something to empty his
gun at.
Presently we saw him returning with a brace and a half of birds that
looked very much like large snipe. So he thought them, but that
question was set at rest by the zoologist, who pronounced them at once
to be the American "Curlew" of Wilson (_Numenius longirostris_). Curlew
or snipe, they were soon divested of the feathery coat, and placed in
Lanty's frying-pan. Excellent eating they proved, having only the fault
that there was not enough of them.
These birds formed the topic of our after-supper conversation, and then
it generalised to the different species of wading birds of America, and
at length that singular creature, the "ibis," became the theme. This
came round by Besancon remarking that a species of ibis was brought by
the Indians to the markets of New Orleans, and sold there under the name
of "Spanish Curlew." This was the white ibis (_Tantalus albas_), which
the zoologist stated was found in plenty along the whole southern coast
of the United States. There were two other species, he said, natives of
the warm parts of North America, the "wood-ibis" (_Tantalus loculator_),
which more nearly resembles the sacred ibis of Egypt, and the beautiful
"sacred ibis" (_Tantalus ruber_), which last is rarer than the others.
Our venerable companion, who had the ornithology of America, if I may
use the expression, at his fingers' ends, imparted many curious details
of the habits of these rare birds. All listened with interest to his
statements--even the hunter-guides, for with all their apparent rudeness
of demeanour, there was a dash of the naturalist in these fellows.
When the zoologist became silent, the young Creole took up the
conversation. Talking of the ibis, he said, reminded him of an
adventure he had met with while in pursuit of these birds among the
swamps of his native state. He would relate it to us. Of course we
were rejoiced at the proposal. We were just the audience for an
"adventure," and after rolling a fresh cigarette, the botanist began his
narration.
"During one of my college vacations I made a botanical excursion to the
south-western part of Louisiana. Before leaving home I had promised a
dear friend to bring him the skins of such rare birds as were known to
frequent the swampy region I was about to traverse, but he was
especially desirous I should obtain for him some specimens of the red
ibis, which he intended to have `mounted.' I gave my word that no
opportunity should be lost of obtaining these birds, and I was very
anxious to make good my promise.
"The southern part of the State of Louisiana is one vast labyrinth of
swamps, bayous, and lagoons. The bayous are sluggish streams that glide
sleepily along, sometimes running one way, and sometimes the very
opposite, according to the season of the year. Many of them are outlets
of the Mississippi, which begins to shed off its waters more than 300
miles from its mouth. These bayous are deep, sometimes narrow,
sometimes wide, with islets in their midst. They and their contiguous
swamps are the great habitat of the alligator and the fresh-water
shark--the gar. Numerous species of water and wading fowl fly over
them, and plunge through their dark tide. Here you may see the red
flamingo, the egret, the trumpeter-swan, the blue heron, the wild goose,
the crane, the snake-bird, the pelican, and the ibis; you may likewise
see the osprey, and the white-headed eagle robbing him of his prey.
Both swamps and bayous produce abundantly fish, reptile, and insect, and
are, consequently, the favourite resort of hundreds of birds which prey
upon these creatures. In some places, their waters form a complete
net-work over the country, which you may traverse with a small boat in
almost any direction; indeed, this is the means by which many
settlements communicate with each other. As you approach southward
towards the Gulf, you get clear of the timber; and within some fifty
miles of the sea, there is not a tree to be seen.
"In the first day or two that I was out, I had succeeded in getting all
the specimens I wanted, with the exception of the ibis. This shy
creature avoided me; in fact I had only seen one or two in my
excursions, and these at a great distance. I still, however, had hopes
of finding them before my return to my friend.
"About the third or fourth day I set out from a small settlement on the
edge of one of the larger bayous. I had no other company than my gun.
I was even unattended by a dog, as my favourite spaniel had the day
before been bitten by an alligator while swimming across the bayou, and
I was compelled to leave him at the settlement. Of course the object of
my excursion was a search after new flora, but I had become by this time
very desirous of getting the rare ibis, and I was determined half to
neglect my botanising for that purpose. I went of course in a boat, a
light skiff, such as is commonly used by the inhabitants of these parts.
"Occasionally using the paddles, I allowed myself to float some four or
live miles down the main bayou; but as the birds I was in search of did
not appear, I struck into a `branch,' and sculled myself up-stream.
This carried me through a solitary region, with marshes stretching as
far as the eye could see, covered with tall reeds. There was no
habitation, nor aught that betokened the presence of man. It was just
possible that I was the first human being who had ever found a motive
for propelling a boat through the dark waters of this solitary stream.
"As I advanced, I fell in with game; and I succeeded in bagging several,
both of the great wood-ibis and the white species. I also shot a fine
white-headed eagle (_Falco leucocephalus_), which came soaring over my
boat, unconscious of danger. But the bird which I most wanted seemed
that which could not be obtained. I wanted the scarlet ibis.
"I think I had rowed some three miles up-stream, and was about to take
in my oars and leave my boat to float back again, when I perceived that,
a little farther up, the bayou widened. Curiosity prompted me to
continue; and after pulling a few hundred strokes, I found myself at the
end of an oblong lake, a mile or so in length. It was deep, dark,
marshy around the shores, and full of alligators. I saw their ugly
forms and long serrated backs, as they floated about in all parts of it,
hungrily hunting for fish and eating one another; but all this was
nothing new, for I had witnessed similar scenes during the whole of my
excursion. What drew my attention most, was a small islet near the
middle of the lake, upon one end of which stood a row of upright forms
of a bright scarlet colour. These red creatures were the very objects I
was in search of. They might be flamingoes: I could not tell at that
distance. So much the better, if I could only succeed in getting a shot
at them; but these creatures are even more wary than the ibis; and as
the islet was low, and altogether without cover, it was not likely they
would allow me to come within range: nevertheless, I was determined to
make the attempt. I rowed up the lake, occasionally turning my head to
see if the game had taken the alarm. The sun was hot and dazzling; and
as the bright scarlet was magnified by refraction, I fancied for a long
time they were flamingoes. This fancy was dissipated as I drew near.
The outlines of the bills, like the blade of a sabre, convinced me they
were the ibis; besides, I now saw that they were less than three feet in
height, while the flamingoes stand five. There were a dozen of them in
all. These were balancing themselves, as is their usual habit, on one
leg, apparently asleep, or _buried in deep thought_. They were on the
upper extremity of the islet, while I was approaching it from below. It
was not above sixty yards across; and could I only reach the point
nearest me, I knew my gun would throw shot to kill at that distance. I
feared the stroke of the sculls would start them, and I pulled slowly
and cautiously. Perhaps the great heat--for it was as hot a day as I
can remember--had rendered them torpid or lazy. Whether or not, they
sat still until the cut-water of my skiff touched the bank of the islet.
I drew my gun up cautiously, took aim, and fired both barrels almost
simultaneously. When the smoke cleared out of my eyes, I saw that all
the birds had flown off except one, that lay stretched out by the edge
of the water.
"Gun in hand, I leaped out of the boat, and ran across the islet to bag
my game. This occupied but a few minutes; and I was turning to go back
to the skiff, when, to my consternation, I saw it out upon the lake, and
rapidly floating downward!
"In my haste I had left it unfastened, and the bayou current had carried
it off. It was still but a hundred yards distant, but it might as well
have been a hundred miles, for at that time I could not swim a stroke.
"My first impulse was to rush down to the lake, and after the boat.
This impulse was checked on arriving at the water's edge, which I saw at
a glance was fathoms in depth. Quick reflection told me that the boat
was gone--irrecoverably gone!
"I did not at first comprehend the full peril of my situation; nor will
you, gentlemen. I was on an islet, in a lake, only half a mile from its
shores--alone, it is true, and without a boat; but what of that? Many a
man had been so before, with not an idea of danger.
"These were first thoughts, natural enough; but they rapidly gave place
to others of a far different character. When I gazed after my boat, now
beyond recovery--when I looked around, and saw that the lake lay in the
middle of an interminable swamp, the shores of which, even could I have
reached them, did not seem to promise me footing--when I reflected that,
being unable to swim, I could _not_ reach them--that upon the islet
there was neither tree, nor log, nor bush; not a stick out of which I
might make a raft--I say, when I reflected upon all these things, there
arose in my mind a feeling of well-defined and absolute horror.
"It is true I was only in a lake, a mile or so in width; but so far as
the peril and helplessness of my situation were concerned, I might as
well have been upon a rock in the middle of the Atlantic. I knew that
there was no settlement within miles--miles of pathless swamp. I knew
that no one could either see or hear me--no one was at all likely to
come near the lake; indeed, I felt satisfied that my faithless boat was
the first keel that had ever cut its waters. The very tameness of the
birds wheeling round my head was evidence of this. I felt satisfied,
too, that without some one to help me, I should never go out from that
lake: I must die on the islet, or drown in attempting to leave it!
"These reflections rolled rapidly over my startled soul. The facts were
clear, the hypothesis definite, the sequence certain; there was no
ambiguity, no supposititious hinge upon which I could hang a hope; no,
not one. I could not even expect that I should be missed and sought
for; there was no one to search for me. The simple _habitans_ of the
village I had left knew me not--I was a stranger among them: they only
knew me as a stranger, and fancied me a strange individual; one who made
lonely excursions, and brought home hunches of weeds, with birds,
insects, and reptiles, which they had never before seen, although
gathered at their own doors. My absence, besides, would be nothing new
to them, even though it lasted for days: I had often been absent before,
a week at a time. There was no hope of my being missed.
"I have said that these reflections came and passed quickly. In less
than a minute, my affrighted soul was in full possession of them, and
almost yielded itself to despair. I shouted, but rather involuntarily
than with any hope that I should be heard; I shouted loudly and
fiercely: my answer--the echoes of my own voice, the shriek of the
osprey, and the maniac laugh of the white-headed eagle.
"I ceased to shout, threw my gun to the earth, and tottered down beside
it. I can imagine the feelings of a man shut up in a gloomy prison--
they are not pleasant. I have been lost upon the wild prairie--the land
sea--without bush, break, or star to guide me--that was worse. There
you look around; you see nothing; you hear nothing: you are alone with
God, and you tremble in his presence; your senses swim; your brain
reels; you are afraid of yourself; you are afraid of your own mind.
Deserted by everything else, you dread lest it, too, may forsake you.
There is horror in this--it is very horrible--it is hard to bear; but I
have borne it all, and would bear it again twenty times over rather than
endure once more the first hour I spent on that lonely islet in that
lonely lake. Your prison may be dark and silent, but you feel that you
are not utterly alone; beings like yourself are near, though they be
your jailers. Lost on the prairie, you are alone; but you are free. In
the islet, I felt that I was alone; that I was not free: in the islet I
experienced the feelings of the prairie and the prison combined.
"I lay in a state of stupor--almost unconscious; how long I know not,
but many hours I am certain; I knew this by the sun--it was going down
when I awoke, if I may so term the recovery of my stricken senses. I
was aroused by a strange circumstance: I was surrounded by dark objects
of hideous shape and hue--reptiles they were. They had been before my
eyes for some time, but I had not seen them. I had only a sort of
dreamy consciousness of their presence; but I heard them at length: my
ear was in better tune, and the strange noises they uttered reached my
intellect. It sounded like the blowing of great bellows, with now and
then a note harsher and louder, like the roaring of a bull. This
startled me, and I looked up and bent my eyes upon the objects: they
were forms of the _crocodilidae_, the giant lizards--they were
alligators.
"Huge ones they were, many of them; and many were they in number--a
hundred at least were crawling over the islet, before, behind, and on
all sides around me. Their long gaunt jaws and channelled snouts
projected forward so as almost to touch my body; and their eyes, usually
leaden, seemed now to glare.
"Impelled by this new danger, I sprang to my feet, when, recognising the
upright form of man, the reptiles scuttled off, and plunging hurriedly
into the lake; hid their hideous bodies under the water.
"The incident in some measure revived me. I saw that I was not alone;
there was company even in the crocodiles. I gradually became more
myself; and began to reflect with some degree of coolness on the
circumstances that surrounded me. My eyes wandered over the islet;
every inch of it came under my glance; every object upon it was
scrutinised--the moulted feathers of wildfowl, the pieces of mud, the
fresh-water mussels (_unios_) strewed upon its beach--all were examined.
Still the barren answer--no means of escape.
"The islet was but the head of a sand-bar, formed by the eddy, perhaps
gathered together within the year. It was bare of herbage, with the
exception of a few tufts of grass. There was neither tree nor bush upon
it: not a stick. A raft indeed! There was not wood enough to make a
raft that would have floated a frog. The idea of a raft was but briefly
entertained; such a thought had certainly crossed my mind, but a single
glance round the islet dispelled it before it had taken shape.
"I paced my prison from end to end; from side to side I walked it over.
I tried the water's depth; on all sides I sounded it, wading recklessly
in; everywhere it deepened rapidly as I advanced. Three lengths of
myself from the islet's edge, and I was up to the neck. The huge
reptiles swam around, snorting and blowing; they were bolder in this
element. I could not have waded safely ashore, even had the water been
shallow. To swim it--no--even though I swam like a duck, they would
have closed upon and quartered me before I could have made a dozen
strokes. Horrified by their demonstrations, I hurried back upon dry
ground, and paced the islet with dripping garments.
"I continued walking until night, which gathered around me dark and
dismal. With night came new voices--the hideous voices of the nocturnal
swamp; the qua-qua of the night-heron, the screech of the swamp-owl, the
cry of the bittern, the cl-l-uk of the great water-toad, the tinkling of
the bell-frog, and the chirp of the savanna-cricket--all fell upon my
ear. Sounds still harsher and more, hideous were heard around me--the
plashing of the alligator, and the roaring of his voice; these reminded
me that I must not go to sleep. To sleep! I durst not have slept for a
single instant. Even when I lay for a few minutes motionless, the dark
reptiles came crawling round me--so close that I could have put forth my
hand and touched them.
"At intervals, I sprang to my feet, shouted, swept my gun around, and
chased them back to the water, into which they betook themselves with a
sullen plunge, but with little semblance of fear. At each fresh
demonstration on my part they showed less alarm, until I could no longer
drive them either with shouts or threatening gestures. They only
retreated a few feet, forming an irregular circle round me.
"Thus hemmed in, I became frightened in turn. I loaded my gun and
fired; I killed none. They are impervious to a bullet, except in the
eye, or under the forearm. It was too dark to aim at these parts; and
my shots glanced harmlessly from the pyramidal scales of their bodies.
The loud report, however, and the blaze frightened them, and they fled,
to return again after a long interval. I was asleep when they returned;
I had gone to sleep in spite of my efforts to keep awake. I was
startled by the touch of something cold; and half-stilled by the strong
musky odour that filled the air. I threw out my arms; my fingers rested
upon an object slippery and clammy: it was one of these monsters--one of
gigantic size. He had crawled close alongside me, and was preparing to
make his attack; as I saw that he was bent in the form of a bow, and I
knew that these creatures assume that attitude when about to strike
their victim. I was just in time to spring aside, and avoid the stroke
of his powerful tail, that the next moment swept the ground where I had
lain. Again I fired, and he with the rest once more retreated to the
lake.
"All thoughts of going to sleep were at an end. Not that I felt
wakeful; on the contrary, wearied with my day's exertion--for I had had
a long pull under a hot tropical sun--I could have lain down upon the
earth, in the mud, anywhere, and slept in an instant. Nothing but the
dread certainty of my peril kept me awake. Once again before morning, I
was compelled to battle with the hideous reptiles, and chase them away
with a shot from my gun.
"Morning came at length, but with it no change in my perilous position.
The light only showed me my island prison, but revealed no way of escape
from it. Indeed, the change could not be called for the better, for the
fervid rays of an almost vertical sun poured down upon me until my skin
blistered. I was already speckled by the bites of a thousand
swamp-flies and mosquitoes, that all night long had preyed upon me.
There was not a cloud in the heavens to shade me; and the sunbeams smote
the surface of the dead bayou with a double intensity.
"Towards evening, I began to hunger; no wonder at that: I had not eaten
since leaving the village settlement. To assuage thirst, I drank the
water of the lake, turbid and slimy as it was. I drank it in large
quantities, for it was hot, and only moistened my palate without
quenching the craving of my appetite. Of water there was enough; I had
more to fear from want of food.
"What could I eat? The ibis. But how to cook it? There was nothing
wherewith to make a fire--not a stick. No matter for that. Cooking is
a modern invention, a luxury for pampered palates. I divested the ibis
of its brilliant plumage, and ate it raw. I spoiled my specimen, but at
the time there was little thought of that: there was not much of the
naturalist left in me. I anathematised the hour I had ever promised to
procure the bird. I wished my friend up to his neck in a swamp.
"The ibis did not weigh above three pounds, bones and all. It served me
for a second meal, a breakfast; but at this _dejeuner sans fourchette_ I
picked the bones.
"What next? starve? No--not yet. In the battles I had had with the
alligators during the second night, one of them had received a shot that
proved mortal. The hideous carcass of the reptile lay dead upon the
beach. I need not starve; I could eat that. Such were my reflections.
I must hunger, though, before I could bring myself to touch the musky
morsel.
"Two more days' fasting conquered my squeamishness. I drew out my
knife, cut a steak from the alligator's tail, and ate it--not the one I
had first killed, but a second; the other was now putrid, rapidly
decomposing under the hot sun: its odour filled the islet.
"The stench had grown intolerable. There was not a breath of air
stirring, otherwise I might have shunned it by keeping to windward. The
whole atmosphere of the islet, as well as a large circle around it, was
impregnated with the fearful effluvium. I could bear it no longer.
With the aid of my gun, I pushed the half-decomposed carcass into the
lake; perhaps the current might carry it away. It did: I had the
gratification to see it float off.
"This circumstance led me into a train of reflections. Why did the body
of the alligator float? It was swollen--inflated with gases. Ha!
"An idea shot suddenly through my mind--one of those brilliant ideas,
the children of necessity. I thought of the floating alligator, of its
intestines--what if I inflated them? Yes, yes! buoys and bladders,
floats and life-preservers! that was the thought. I would open the
alligators, make a buoy of their intestines, and that would bear me from
the islet!
"I did not lose a moment's time; I was full of energy: hope had given me
new life. My gun was loaded--a huge crocodile that swam near the shore
received the shot in his eye. I dragged him on the beach; with my knife
I laid open his entrails. Few they were, but enough for my purpose. A
plume-quill from the wing of the ibis served me for a blow-pipe. I saw
the bladder-like skin expand, until I was surrounded by objects like
great sausages. Those were tied together, and fastened to my body, and
then, with a plunge, I entered the waters of the lake, and floated
downward. I had tied on my life-preservers in such a way that I sat in
the water in an upright position, holding my gun with both hands. This
I intended to have, used as a club in case I should be attacked by the
alligators; but I had chosen the hot hour of noon, when these creatures
lie in a half-torpid state, and to my joy I was not molested.
"Half an hour's drifting with the current carried me to the end of the
lake, and I found myself at the _debouchure_ of the bayou. Here, to my
great delight, I saw my boat in the swamp, where it had been caught and
held fast by the sedge. A few minutes more, and I had swung myself over
the gunwale, and was sculling with eager strokes down the smooth waters
of the bayou.
"Of course my adventure was ended, and I reached the settlement in
safety, but without the object of my excursion. I was enabled, however,
to procure it some days after, and had the gratification of being able
to keep my promise to my friend."
Besancon's adventure had interested all of us; the old hunter-naturalist
seemed delighted with it. No doubt it revived within him the memories
of many a perilous incident in his own life.
It was evident that in the circle of the camp-fire there was more than
one pair of lips ready to narrate some similar adventure, but the hour
was late, and all agreed it would be better to go to rest. On to-morrow
night, some other would take their turn; and, in fact, a regular
agreement was entered into that each one of the party who had at any
period of his life been the hero or participator in any hunting
adventure should narrate the same for the entertainment of the others.
This would bring out a regular "round of stories by the camp-fire," and
would enable us to kill the many long evenings we had to pass before
coming up with the buffalo. The conditions were, that the stories
should exclusively relate to birds or animals--in fact, any hunted game
belonging to the _fauna_ of the American Continent: furthermore, that
each should contribute his _quota_ of information about whatever animal
should chance to be the subject of the narration--about its habits, its
geographical range; in short, its general natural history, as well as
the various modes of hunting it, practised in different places by
different people. This, it was alleged, would render our camp
conversation instructive as well as entertaining.
The idea originated with the old hunter-naturalist, who very wisely
reasoned that among so many gentlemen of large hunting experience he
might collect new facts for his favourite science--for to just such men,
and not to the closet-dreamer, is natural history indebted for its most
interesting chapters. Of course every one of us, guides and all, warmly
applauded the proposal, for there was no one among us averse to
receiving a little knowledge of so entertaining a character. No doubt
to the naturalist himself we should be indebted for most part of it; and
his mode of communicating was so pleasant, that even the rude trappers
listened to him with wonder and attention. They saw that he was no
"greenhorn" either in woodcraft or prairie knowledge, and that was a
sufficient claim to their consideration.
There is no character less esteemed by the regular "mountain-man" than a
"greenhorn,"--that is, one who is new to the ways of their wilderness
life.
With the design of an early start, we once more crept into our several
quarters, and went to sleep.