The "butte" was one of those singular formations to be met with in the
Great American Desert. It was not a mountain nor yet a hill. Its shape
was different from either. It was more like a vast mass of rocky earth,
raised above the prairie, perpendicular on all sides, and having a flat
level surface upon its top. It was, in fact, one of those hills which
in the language of Spanish America, are termed "mesas," or tables--so
called on account of their flat, table-like tops. They are generally
argillaceous, and are common upon the Upper Missouri river, and
throughout the vast desert regions that lie west of the Del Norte.
Sometimes several of them stand near each other upon the plains, looking
as though their tops had once been the level of the ancient surface, and
the ground between had been worn away by disintegration--from rain and
other causes--leaving them thus standing. To the eye of one accustomed
to looking only upon rounded hills, or mountains with sharp peaks, these
elevated "mesas" appear very singular, and form an interesting study for
the geologist.
The top of the one beside which our adventurers halted, had a
superficial area of some twenty or thirty acres; and its perpendicular
sides rose nearly two hundred feet above the surrounding prairie. A
thin growth of pine-trees covered it; while stunted pinons and cedars
hung out from its cliffs. There were agaves, and yucca palms, and
cacti, growing along its edges, giving it a very picturesque appearance.
Our travellers, after halting, and having satisfied their thirst, of
course thought of nothing but remaining there to recruit both themselves
and their animals. They saw around them the three requisites of a
camp--water, wood, and grass. They commenced by cutting down some
pinon-trees that grew by the foot of the cliff. With these a bright
fire was soon made. They had still enough bear's meat left to last them
for several days. What more wanted they? But they discovered that even
in this arid region Nature had planted trees and vegetables to sustain
life. The pinons afforded their farinaceous cones, the agave yielded
its esculent roots, and the prairie-turnip grew upon the borders of the
runlet. They saw a small plant with white lily-like flowers. It was
the "sego" of the Indians (_Calochortus luteus_), and they knew that at
its roots grew tubers, as large as filberts, and delicious eating when
cooked. Lucien recognised all these edible productions; and promised
his brothers a luxurious dinner on the morrow. For that night, all
three were too much fatigued and sleepy to be nice about their
appetites. The juicy bear's meat, to travellers, thirsty and hungry as
they, needed no seasoning to make it palatable. So they washed
themselves clear of the dust, ate their frugal meal, and stretched
themselves out for a long night's rest.
And a capital night's rest they enjoyed--without having been disturbed
by anything. One would have supposed that, after so much hardship, they
would have got up somewhat wearied. Strange to say, it was not so, for
they arose quite refreshed. This Lucien attributed to the bracing
influence of the light dry atmosphere; and Lucien was right, for,
although an arid soil surrounded them, its climate is one of the
healthiest in the world. Many a consumptive person, who has crossed the
prairies with flushed cheek, uttering his hectic cough, has returned to
his friends to bear joyful testimony to what I now state.
All three felt as brisk as bees, and immediately set about preparing
breakfast. They gathered a capful of the pinon cones--the seeds of
which Lucien knew how to prepare by parching and pounding. These, with
the bear's meat, gave them a good hunter's breakfast. They then thought
of their dinner, and dug up a quantity of "segos" and prairie-turnips.
They found also a mallow--the _Malva involucrata_--whose long tapering
root resembles the parsnip both in taste and appearance. All these were
baked with the bear's meat--so that the dinner, in some respects,
resembled ham, turnips, parsnips, and yams--for the root of the sego
thus dressed, is not unlike the yam, or sweet potato (_Convolvulus
batatas_).
Of course, our adventurers did not eat their dinner immediately after
breakfast. A long interval passed between the two meals, which they
employed in washing, scouring, and setting all their tackle to rights--
for this had got sadly out of order in the hurry of the previous days.
While thus engaged, they occasionally cast their eyes over the prairie,
but nothing of the buffalo could be seen. Indeed, they did not look for
them very earnestly, as they had made up their minds to stay a day or
two where they were--until their animals should be well rested, and
ready for rough work again. The latter enjoyed themselves quite as much
as their masters. There was plenty of the "grama" grass growing along
the banks of the rivulet, and that with the water was all they cared for
to make them contented and happy. Jeanette appeared to be glad that she
was no longer among the dark woods, where she had so nearly been torn to
pieces by panthers and javalies.
Before evening came the boys had finished all the little jobs which had
occupied them. Their saddles, bridles, and lassos, were put in thorough
repair, and placed upon the dry rocks. Their guns were wiped out, and
thoroughly cleaned--lock, stock, and barrel. The horses, too, had been
washed by the spring; and Jeanette's shanks had received a fresh "rub"
with bear's grease, so that if ever that celebrated article brought out
hair upon anything, it was likely to do so for her.
I say, all their little matters having been thus attended to, the young
hunters were sitting upon three large stones near the spring, talking
over their past adventures and their future prospects. Of course, the
buffalo was the principal theme, as that was the object of their
expedition. They did not fail to think of their good old father; and
they congratulated themselves upon the pleasure he would have in
listening to the story of their adventures when they should get back to
tell it. Hugot, too, came in for a share of their thoughts; and
Francois laughed over the remembrance of the tricks he had from time to
time played upon the little corporal.
While thus enjoying themselves, the eyes of all were attracted to some
distant objects upon the prairie.
"Ho!" exclaimed Francois, "what a string of wolves!"
Wolves were no unusual sight, and even at that moment several were
sitting upon the prairie, not more than two hundred yards from the camp.
They were those that had followed the party on their march, having kept
along with it for days.
"The animals we see, yonder, are not wolves," joyfully added Basil.
"They are better than that, I fancy--they are deer!"
"No, brother," rejoined Lucien, "they are antelopes."
This announcement caused both Basil and Francois to spring to their
guns. Basil was particularly anxious to bring down an antelope, for he
had never killed one. In fact, he had never seen one, as this animal is
not met with near the Mississippi. Strange to say, its favourite range
is the arid deserts that lie near the foots of the Rocky Mountains,
where there is but little grass, and less water. In some of these it is
the only ruminating animal, of any considerable size, to be met with.
It is often found so far from water, that some naturalists have asserted
it can live without this necessary element. They forget that what to
them appears _far from water_, is to the antelope but a run of a few
minutes, or rather I should say, a flight--for its bounding speed
resembles more the flight of a bird than the gallop of a four-footed
creature.
Antelopes differ but little from deer. The latter want the
gall-bladder, which all antelopes have. Another distinction is found in
the horns. The deer's horns are composed of a solid bony substance,
which differs from true horn. The horns of the antelope are more like
those of a goat. These are the principal distinctions. In most other
respects deer and antelopes are alike. Naturalists say there is but one
species of antelope in North America--the prong-horned (_Antilope
Americana_). When the fauna of Mexico has been carefully examined, I
think another will be found.
It is only upon the great prairies of the far west that the prong-horned
antelope is met with; and there it is a most shy and timid creature,
allowing the hunter only to approach it by cunning and stratagem. A
herd is sometimes hunted by the Indians into a "pound," or "surrounded;"
but even then their fleetness often enables them to escape; and so
laborious an undertaking is it to capture them thus, that the plan is
but seldom adopted, where any other game can be obtained. The easiest
mode of taking the antelope is when it is found attempting to cross a
river--as its slender limbs and small delicate hoofs render it but a
poor swimmer. The Indians sometimes destroy whole herds while thus
endeavouring to swim across the great streams of the prairies.
Although so shy, the antelope is as inquisitive as mother Eve was; and
will often approach its most dangerous enemy to satisfy its instinct of
curiosity. Our party were destined to witness a singular illustration
of this peculiarity.
Basil and Francois had seized their guns, but did not attempt to move
from the spot. That would be of no use, they judged; as there was not
even a bunch of grass to shelter them in the direction whence the
antelopes were approaching. They sat still, therefore, in hopes that
the animals were on their way to the spring, and would come nearer of
their own accord. In this conjecture the boys were right. The herd,
about twenty in all, came on over the prairie, heading directly for the
butte. They walked in single file, following their leader like Indians
on a war-path! They were soon so near, that the hunters could
distinguish every part of their bodies--their yellow backs--their white
sides and bellies--the short erect manes upon their necks--their
delicate limbs--their long pointed muzzles. They could even perceive
the little black spots behind their cheeks, which emit that disagreeable
odour--as with the common goat--and on account of which the
hunting-trappers, in their unromantic phraseology, have given the name
of "goats" to these most graceful animals.
All these peculiarities our young hunters observed as the herd
approached. They had placed themselves behind some willow-bushes, so as
not to be seen by the latter. They observed, too, that there was but
one of them with horns, and that was the foremost, or leader. All the
rest were does or young ones. The antelopes, as they came on, did not
appear to regard the horses, that were browsing out upon the plain,
though not directly in their way. They took the latter, no doubt, for
mustangs--who are not their enemies in any sense--and, therefore, did
not fear them.
They arrived at length close to the spring rivulet, where it ran out
upon the prairie. They did not approach it to drink. They were
evidently advancing towards the spring itself, perhaps with the
intention of getting a cooler and more refreshing draught from the
fountain-head. The young hunters lay concealed among the willows--each
with his gun ready in his hand--determined to fire as soon as the
unsuspecting creatures should come within range.
They had got nearly so--within two hundred yards, or less--when all at
once the leader was seen to swerve suddenly to the right, and head away
from the water! What could this movement mean? On looking in the new
direction, several hairy objects were perceived upon the ground. They
were odd-looking objects, of a reddish-brown colour, and might have
passed for a number of foxes lying asleep. But they were not foxes.
They were wolves--_prairie-wolves_--a sort of animals more cunning even
than foxes themselves. They were not asleep neither, though they
pretended to be. They were wide awake, as they lay squatted closely
upon the grass, with their heads so completely hidden behind their bushy
tails, that it would have been impossible to have told what they were,
had not the boys known that they were the same wolves they had noticed
but the moment before. There were about half-a-dozen of them in all,
lying in a line; but so close were they, that their bodies touched one
another, and at first sight appeared as one object, or a string of
objects connected together. They lay perfectly still and motionless.
It was this group that had attracted the leader of the antelope herd,
and was drawing him out of his course.
Curious to witness the _denouement_, our hunters continued to lie quiet
in their ambush among the willows.
The antelopes had all turned in the track of their leader, and were
following him in the new direction, like soldiers marching in single
file. They went slowly, with outstretched necks and eyes protruded,
gazing steadfastly on the strange objects before them. When within a
hundred yards or so of the wolves, the leader stopped, and sniffed the
air. The others imitated him in every movement. The wind was blowing
towards the wolves, therefore the antelopes, who possess the keenest
scent, could benefit nothing from this. They moved forward again
several paces, and again halted, and uttered their snorts as before, and
then once more moved on. These manoeuvres lasted for some minutes; and
it was evident that the spirits of fear and curiosity were struggling
within the breasts of these creatures. At times the former seemed to
have the mastery, for they would tremble, and start as if about to break
off in flight. Curiosity would again prevail, and a fresh movement
forward was the consequence.
In this way they advanced, until the headmost had got within a few paces
of the wolves, who lay all the while as still as mice or as cats waiting
for mice. Not any part of them was seen to move, except the long hair
of their tails that waved slightly in the breeze; but this only excited
the curiosity of the antelopes to a greater degree.
The leader of the herd seemed all at once to grow bolder. He was a
stout old buck--what had _he_ to fear? Why should _he_ dread such
creatures as these, without heads, or teeth, or claws, and evidently
incapable of moving themselves? No doubt they were inanimate objects.
He would soon decide that question, by simply stepping up and laying his
nose upon one of them.
He was instigated, moreover, by a species of pride or vanity. He wanted
to show off his courage before his followers, who were mostly does; many
of them his wives too--for the old antelopes are shocking polygamists.
It would never do to appear timid in the eyes of the fair does; and he
was determined to cut a swagger. Under this impulse, he walked boldly
up, until his sharp snout touched the hair of one of the wolves.
The latter, who had been all the time peeping from under his tail,
waiting for just such an opportunity, now sprang to his feet, and
launched himself upon the throat of the antelope. His comrades,
uncoiling themselves at the same instant, followed his example; and the
next moment the prong-horn was dragged to the ground, and worried by the
whole pack!
The frightened herd wheeled in their track and scattered right and left.
Some ran in the direction of the hunters; but so swiftly did they bound
past, that the shots of the latter, aimed in haste, whistled idly over
the prairie. Not one of them appeared to have been touched; and, in a
few seconds, not one of them was to be seen. They had all escaped,
except their leader, who was by this time dying under the teeth of the
wolves.
"Well, we shall have _him_ at all events," said Basil. "Load your guns,
brothers! give the wolves time to kill him outright; we can easily run
them off."
"Very kind of them," added Francois, "to procure us fresh venison for
supper. Indeed we might not have had it but for their cunning. We have
done them some service during our journey; it is almost time they should
make us a return."
"We had better make haste, then," said Lucien, loading at the same time
with his brothers; "the wolves appear to be very busy; they may tear our
venison to pieces. See! what a scuffle!"
As Lucien said this, the eyes of all were turned upon the wolves. The
latter were leaping about over the body of the antelope, now in a thick
clump, now more scattered, but all the while apparently worrying the
animal to death. Their jaws were already blood-stained, and their bushy
tails swept about and above them in ceaseless motion. The hunters made
all haste in reloading, lest, as Lucien had suggested, the wolves might
spoil the venison. They were not more than a minute engaged in ramming
down the bullets, and fixing the caps on the nipples of their guns.
When this was done, all three ran forward together--Marengo in the
advance, with outstretched neck and open mouth, eager to do battle with
the whole pack.
It was but three hundred yards to the spot where the wolves were; and
when our hunters had got within range, all three stopped, levelled their
pieces, and fired. The volley took effect. Two were seen kicking and
sprawling over the grass, while the others, dropping their prey,
scampered off over the prairie. The boys ran up. Marengo leaped upon
one of the wounded wolves, while the other was despatched by the butts
of their guns. But where was the antelope? There was no such animal to
be seen; but, in its stead, half-a-dozen fragments of mangled skin, a
horned head and shanks, with a clump of half-picked, ribs and joints!
And this was all that was left of the poor prong-horn--all that was left
of that beautiful form that, only a few moments before, was bounding
over the prairie in the full pride of health, strength, and swiftness!
The boys contemplated his remains with feelings of disappointment and
chagrin; for, although there was still plenty of bear-meat, they had
anticipated supping upon fresh venison. But neither "haunch" nor
"saddle" was left--nothing but torn and useless fragments--so, after
sundry sharp ejaculations against the wolves, they left Marengo to make
his best of the _debris_, and, walking back slowly to the camp, seated
themselves once more upon the stones.