Black Hawk strayed off to some distance in search of grass, for the
latter was scanty near the spot; and what there was of it had been eaten
as close to the ground, as if a thousand rabbits had been feeding upon
it! Basil did not hinder his horse from going. He knew that he was too
well trained to run away, and that he could recall him at any moment by
a whistle. He sat still, therefore; now scanning the prairie to the
eastward, and now endeavouring to kill time by examining the strange
little mounds on the other side. Of these there were thousands--indeed,
they covered the plain, both to the north and south, and west, as far as
Basil could see. They were shaped like truncated cones, about three
feet in diameter at the base, and not over two in height. Near the top
of each was the entrance--a hole not much larger than would have been
used by a rat. There was no grass immediately around this hole,
although the sides and tops of the mounds were clothed with a smooth
green turf that gave them the appearance of having been constructed a
long time ago.
The inhabitants of these singular dwellings soon began to show
themselves. They had been terrified by the thundering tread of the
steeds, and had hidden at their approach. All was now silent again, and
they thought they might venture abroad. First one little snout peeped
out, and then another, and another until every hole had a head and a
pair of sparkling eyes looking forth. After a while the owners of the
heads became more courageous, and boldly stepped out-of-doors; and then
could be seen hundreds of these strange creatures. They were of a
reddish-brown colour, with breasts and bellies of a dirty white. Their
bodies were about the size of the common grey squirrel; but their
general appearance partook of the squirrel, the weasel, and the rat--all
three of which they in some respects resembled, and yet were not like
any of them. They were a distinct species of animals. They were
_Marmots_, that species known by the fanciful appellation of
"prairie-dogs," (_Arctomys ludoviciana_). Their tails were very short,
and not bushy as those of squirrels; and altogether their bodies had not
the graceful symmetry of these animals. In a short time every mound had
two or three on its top--for several individuals dwell together in the
same house. Some sat upon all fours, while others erected themselves on
their hind-feet, and stood up like little bears or monkeys--all the
while flourishing their tails and uttering their tiny barking, that
sounded like the squeak of a toy-dog. It is from this that they derive
the name of "prairie-dogs," for in nothing else do they resemble the
canine species. Like all marmots--and there are many different kinds--
they are innocent little creatures, and live upon grass, seeds, and
roots. They must eat very little; and indeed it is a puzzle to
naturalists how they sustain themselves. Their great "towns" near the
Rocky Mountains are generally in barren tracts, where there is but a
scanty herbage; and yet the inhabitants are never found more than half a
mile from their dwellings. How, then, do thousands of them subsist on
what little grass can grow in a pasture so circumscribed? This has not
been explained; nor is it known why they choose these barren tracts for
their dwelling-places, in preference to the more fertile prairies. All
these things await the study and observation of the historian of nature.
Basil was surprised to observe that the marmots were not alone the
occupants of their town. There were other creatures moving about of an
entirely different kind, and they also seemed to be perfectly at home.
There were white owls, about the size of pigeons, of a species he had
never seen before. These were the burrowing owls (_Strix cunicularia_),
differing altogether from their blind cousins of the night who dwell in
thick woods and old ruins. He saw these little owls gliding about on
silent wing, or standing erect upon the tops of the houses, at a
distance looking exactly like the marmots themselves.
Besides the marmots and owls there were other live creatures in sight.
There were small lizards scuttling about; and crawling among the mounds
was seen a hideous form--also of the lizard kind--the "horned frog"
(_Agama cornuta_). These creatures were new to Basil; and their ugly
earth-coloured bodies, their half-toad half-lizard shape, with the thorn
like protuberances, upon their back, shoulders, and head, inspired him
with disgust as he gazed upon them. He could see, too, the small
land-tortoise (_Cistuda_) squatting upon the ground, and peeping
cautiously out of its box-like shell. But there was another creature in
this community more fearful than all the rest. This was the _ground
rattle-snake_, which could be seen, coiled up, and basking in the sun,
or gliding among the mounds, as if searching for his prey. Basil
noticed that it was a different species from any of the rattle-snakes he
had seen--differing from them in its shape and markings, but equally
vicious in its appearance and habits. It was the _Crotalus
tergeminus_--found only in barren grounds, such as those inhabited by
the prairie-marmot.
Basil could not help falling into a train of reflection about this
varied community of creatures. Were they friends to each other? or did
they form a chain of destruction, preying upon one another? Friends
they could not all be. The marmots lived upon grass; and the lizards
upon insects and prairie-crickets, of which there were numbers around.
Upon these, too, no doubt, the tortoises supported themselves; but upon
what fed the owls and snakes?
These questions puzzled Basil. He could not satisfy himself about them;
and he thought of Lucien, who understood the habits of these various
animals better than himself. He began to think both of Lucien and
Francois--for two hours had now passed, and they did not make their
appearance! He was fast becoming uneasy, when a small group of objects
was seen approaching from the eastward, which, to his joy, proved to be
the party.
In half an hour afterwards they rode up greeting their brother with
joyful shouts. They had been travelling briskly ever since the morning,
and upon Basil's tracks too, showing what a stretch of ground he must
have passed over in his wild gallop. They saw at once that the white
horse had got off; and Basil, in a few words, gave them an account of
the chase and how it had come to an end.
As it was now afternoon, and the butte still appeared distant, they made
but a short halt--just long enough to swallow a morsel of meat and take
a drink from their water-gourds, which, owing to the intense heat, were
now better than half empty. Their animals already suffered from thirst;
so, without delay, the young hunters got into their saddles, with the
intention of continuing their journey.
"Across the dog-town?" inquired Francois, who had mounted first. "Shall
we ride through it or go round?"
Here was a difficulty, indeed. The dog-town lay directly between them
and the butte. To keep straight forward they would have to ride through
it. That would impede them to a considerable extent, as they could only
ride slowly and in zig-zag lines without danger. To go round it, on the
other hand, might lead them miles out of the way--perhaps many miles--
for these marmot villages are frequently of large extent.
"Let us go south a bit," advised Lucien. "Perhaps we may come to the
end of it that way."
They all turned their horses for the south, and commenced riding in that
direction.
They rode for at least two miles, keeping along the border of the
settlement: but they could still see it ahead, apparently stretching for
miles farther.
"We have come the wrong way," said Lucien; "we might have done better
had we turned north. We must cross it now; what say you, brothers?"
All agreed to this; for it is not very pleasant to be going about, when
the goal of one's journey is within sight. So the heads of the horses
were brought round once more facing the butte; and the party rode in
among the mounds, and proceeded slowly and with great caution. As they
approached, the little "dogs" ran to their hillocks, barked at the
intruders, shook their short tails, and then whisked themselves off into
their holes. Whenever the party had got past, a hundred yards or so,
the marmots would come forth again, and utter their tiny cough-like
notes as before; so that, when our travellers were fairly into the
"town," they found themselves at all times in the centre of a barking
circle!
The owls rose up before them, alighting at short distances; then, once
more startled, they would fly farther off, sometimes sailing away until
out of sight, and sometimes, like the marmots, hiding themselves within
the burrows. The rattle-snakes, too, betook themselves to the burrows,
and so did the lizards and agamas. What appeared most strange, was,
that all of these creatures--marmots, owls, snakes, lizards, and
agamas--were observed, when suddenly escaping, sometimes to enter the
same mound! This our travellers witnessed more than once.
Very naturally the conversation turned upon these things; and Lucien
added some facts to what Basil had already observed.
"The holes," said he, "had we time to dig them up, would be found to
descend perpendicularly for two or three feet. They then run obliquely
for several feet farther, and end in a little chamber which is the real
house of the marmot. I say the _real_ house, for these cone-like mounds
are only the entrances. They have been formed out of the earth brought
up from below at the making of the burrows. As you see, this earth has
not been allowed to lie in a neglected heap, such as rats and rabbits
leave at the mouths of their burrows. On the contrary, it has been
built up with great care, and beaten together by the marmots' feet until
quite firm and smooth; and the grass has been allowed to grow over it to
save it from being washed down by rain. It is evident the animal does
all this with design--just as beavers, in building their houses. Now,
upon these mounds the marmots love to bask, and amuse themselves in the
sun; and it is likely that they can watch their enemies better from this
elevated position, and thus gain time to make good their retreat."
"But some of the mounds look quite dilapidated," observed Francois.
"Look yonder, there are several of them caved in, and guttered by the
rain! What is the reason, I wonder?"
"These are the ones in which the owls live," replied Lucien. "See!
yonder goes an owl into one this very moment! It is supposed that the
owls have taken these from the marmots, and use them exclusively for
their own dwellings; and, as you perceive, they do not keep them in
repair. All they care for is the hole to take shelter in, leaving the
outside works to go to ruin as they may. Certain it is that, although
we have seen them and the dogs rush into the same hole together, it is
because we came suddenly upon them. They do not live thus. The marmots
have their own dwellings, and the owls theirs, which last are the ruined
ones you have noticed."
"But do not the owls eat the marmots?" inquired Basil. "The great owls
of the woods prey upon animals as large. I have seen them kill rabbits
in the dusk of the evening."
"These do not," answered the naturalist; "at least it is supposed they
do not. Many that have been shot and opened proved to have nothing in
their stomachs but insects and beetles--such as these we see upon the
prairie. I think it is probable the owls make an occasional meal of the
horned frogs and lizards; though I have no proof of this farther than
that birds of this kind usually prey upon such reptiles."
"But how live the rattle-snakes?" inquired Francois; "what do they feed
upon?"
"Ah!" replied Lucien, "that is the puzzle of naturalists. Some assert
that they are the tyrants of the community, and devour the old marmots.
This can hardly be, as these snakes are not large enough to swallow
them, in my opinion. Certain it is, however, that they prey
occasionally upon the young, as many of them have been killed with young
marmots in their belly?"
"Why, then," rejoined Francois, "the snakes seem to have it all their
own way. If they eat the young marmots, what is to hinder them from
killing as many as they please? They can enter the burrows with as much
ease as the marmots themselves!"
"That is true," replied Lucien, "but not half so nimbly; and perhaps the
latter can even escape them within. The rattle-snake is a very slow
crawler; and, besides, only strikes his prey when coiled up. Perhaps,
in these subterranean galleries, he is still less able to capture it;
and the old marmots may, after all, have some mode of defending both
themselves and their young from his venomous attacks. As yet very
little is known of these creatures. The remote regions in which they
are found place them beyond the observation of naturalists; and such of
these, as have visited their towns, have been only allowed time to make
a hurried examination of them. They are very shy; rarely letting you
get within range of a gun. They are, therefore, seldom shot at.
Moreover, it takes great trouble to capture them by digging--on account
of the depth of their burrows--and as their skins are not very valuable,
and their flesh but a bite at best, they are not often molested by the
hunter."
"But are they eatable?" inquired Francois.
"Yes," answered Lucien; "the Indians are very fond of their flesh, and
eat it whenever they can conveniently get it; but, indeed, they will do
the same for almost every living creature."
"What do marmots feed upon in winter, when there is no grass for them?"
inquired Francois.
"They then lie torpid. They have nests in their subterranean chambers,
and curious nests these are. They are constructed of grass and roots,
are as round as a globe, and so firmly woven together, that one of them
might be kicked over the prairie like a foot-ball. The nest is within,
with a small hole leading into it, just large enough to admit your
finger--for when the marmot goes inside, he closes all up, except this
little hole, through which he gets all the air he requires. In these
snug beds they lie asleep during the cold season, and at that time are
rarely seen outside their burrows."