"Approaching" buffaloes is nothing else than creeping stealthily on them
until within range, when the hunter fires, often loads again and fires,
and so on, until many of them are killed, before their companions take
the alarm and scamper off. Indeed, the hunter will sometimes crawl up
to a herd; and concealing himself behind the bodies of those he has
already killed, fire away until many have fallen. In doing this he
takes care to keep to leeward; for if otherwise, and these animals--who
have much keener scent than sight--should happen to "wind" him, as it is
termed, they are off in a moment. So keen is their scent, that they can
detect an enemy to windward at the distance of a mile or more. In
"approaching," the hunter sometimes disguises himself in the skin of a
wolf or deer; when the buffaloes, mistaking him for one of these
animals, permit him to get within shooting distance. An Indian has been
known to creep up in this manner into the midst of a buffalo herd, and
with his bow and arrows, silently shoot one after another, until the
whole herd lay prostrate! "Approaching" is sometimes a better method
than "running." The hunter thus saves his horse--often a jaded one--and
is likely to kill a greater number of buffaloes, and get so many more
hides, if that be his object, as it sometimes is. When he is a
traveller only, or a beaver-trapper, who wants to get a buffalo for his
dinner, and cares for no more than one, then "running" is the more
certain mode of obtaining it. In this way, however, he can kill only
one, or at most two or three; for, while he is shooting these, and
loading between times, the herd scatters, and runs out of his reach; and
his horse is apt to be too much "blown" to allow him to overtake them
again.
A third method of hunting buffaloes is the "surround." This is
practised only by the Indians--as the white hunters of the prairies are
rarely ever in such numbers as would enable them to effect a "surround."
The name almost explains the nature of this hunt, which is practised as
follows:--When a hand of Indian hunters discover a herd of buffaloes,
they scatter and deploy into a circle around them. They soon accomplish
this on their swift horses, for they are mounted--as all prairie-hunters
are sure to be, whether whites or Indians. As soon as the circle is
formed, the Indians ride inward with loud yells, and drive the buffaloes
into a thick clump in the centre. They then dash upon them with bows
and lances--each hunter killing as many as he can. The buffaloes become
confused, run to and fro, and but few of them in the end get off. A
herd of hundreds, and even thousands, is sometimes slaughtered at one of
these _battues_. The Indians make this wholesale destruction for two
objects; first, to get the meat, which they preserve by "jerking"--that
is, by cutting into thin strips and drying in the sun--and, secondly,
for the skins with which they cover their tents, make their beds, and
part of their clothing. Many of them they barter at the trading-houses
of the whites--established in remote regions for this purpose--where
they receive in exchange knives, rifles, lead, powder, beads, and
vermilion.
Another method the Indians have of hunting the buffalo, is not unlike
the last, but is still more fearful to witness.
Most of the region where the buffaloes range consists of high upland
prairies, such as in Asia are called "steppes," and in Mexico and South
America "mesas," or "table-lands." Such plains are elevated from three
to six thousand feet above the level of the sea. In many places on
these table-lands there are deep rifts called "canons," or more properly
"barrancas," that have probably been formed by running water during
rain-storms. These are often dry, and look like vast fissures opening
down into the earth--often for a thousand feet or more--and extending
away for scores of miles across the prairie. Sometimes two of them
intersect each other, forming a triangular space or peninsula between;
and the traveller on reaching this point is obliged to turn back, as he
finds himself almost encircled by precipices yawning downward into the
earth. Whenever the Indians get a herd of buffaloes near one of these
canons, they surround them on three sides, and guide them towards the
precipice; and when they are near enough, gallop forward with wild
shouts, causing the buffaloes to dash madly and blindly over. A whole
herd will sometimes leap a precipice in this way--those in the front
being forced over by the others, and, these in turn pressed, either to
take the leap or be thrust by the spears of the pursuing horsemen.
Sometimes when the Indians are not insufficient numbers to make a
"surround" of buffalo, they collect buffalo chips, and build them in
little piles so as to represent men. These piles are placed in two
rows, gradually converging towards each other, and leading to one of the
aforementioned bluffs. Between these two rows they drive the buffaloes,
that, mistaking the piles of their own "chips" for Indians, are guided
onwards to the edge of the precipice, when the hunters make their noisy
rush, and force them over.
There are other methods of buffalo-hunting, such as pursuing them in the
snow, when the hunters in their snow-shoes easily overtake and slaughter
them. Some Mexican buffalo-hunters (in the southern prairies called
"ciboleros") capture the buffalo with the lasso; but this method is not
often practised, except when they wish to catch the young calves alive
for the purpose of raising them.
Now, all these methods were familiar to our three young hunters--that
is, familiar from descriptions--as they had often heard about them from
old trappers who came down among the settlements of Louisiana, and who
sometimes spent the night under their father's roof--for the Colonel
liked very much to entertain these old trappers, and get a talk out of
them. It was from this source then, that Francois derived his ideas of
buffalo-hunting, which led him in the pride of his knowledge to exclaim,
"Run them, of course."
Basil and Lucien took a little time to consider it, all the while
keeping their eyes fixed upon the three buffaloes. There was just one
a-piece, which they could separate, and run down--they were far from any
cover, and it might therefore be difficult to "approach" them--moreover
the horses were fresh, for the day before had been Sunday, and our
adventurers had always made it a rule to lie by on that day, to rest
both themselves and their animals. This they did in accordance with a
command given to them by their father at starting. All things
considered, then, "running" was the best plan, and it was the one they
resolved to adopt.
Jeanette was tied to a tree, and left behind with her packs, that had
not yet been taken off. Marengo, of course, was taken along with them,
as he might prove useful in pulling down one of the old bulls if
wounded. Everything that might encumber the hunters was left with
Jeanette; and all three rode out upon the prairie, and made direct for
the animals. It was agreed that each should choose one of them, and
then do his best with gun and pistols. Francois had put buck-shot into
both barrels, and was full of confidence that he was about to "throw"
his first buffalo.
As they drew nearer, a lustrous appearance upon the bodies of the
strange animals attracted their attention. Were they buffaloes, after
all?
The brothers rode quietly onward, observing them with attention. No,
buffaloes they were not. The rough shaggy bodies of these would not
shine so, for they glittered in the sun as they moved about. Buffaloes
they could not be.
"That they are not," said Lucien, after a deliberate look through his
fingers.
"What are they then?" inquired Francois.
"Listen!" replied Lucien; "do you hear that?"
All three had drawn bridle. A loud "_gobble_--_obble_--_obble_,"
proceeded from the animals, evidently uttered by some one of the three.
"As I live," exclaimed Francois, "that's the gobble of an old
turkey-cock!"
"Neither more nor less," replied Lucien, with a smile. "_They are
turkeys_!"
"Turkeys!" echoed Basil, "turkeys taken for buffaloes! What a grand
deception!"
And all three at first looked very blank at each other, and then
commenced laughing heartily at the mistake they had made.
"We must never tell of this," said Basil, "we should be laughed at, I
reckon."
"Not a bit of it," rejoined Lucien, "such mistakes are often made, even
by old travellers on the prairies. It is an atmospheric illusion very
common. I have heard of a worse case than ours--of a raven having been
taken for a buffalo!"
"When we meet the buffaloes then, I suppose we shall mistake them for
mammoths," remarked Francois; and the disappointed hunters now turned
their attention to the capturing of birds instead of buffaloes.