This night they were not permitted to sleep without interruption. Two
or three times their horses bounded about at the end of their
trail-ropes, frightened by some prowling animal. It might be wolves,
thought they; but the dog Marengo, who did not mind the wolves, showed
symptoms of terror, growling savagely it intervals, but all the while
keeping in by the camp. The mule Jeanette, too, came close up to the
fire--as near as her rope would allow her--and our adventurers could see
that she trembled, as if in fear of some well-known enemy! Several
times they could distinguish, amidst the howling of the wolves, a
strange sound, differing altogether from the voices of the latter. It
was a kind of continued snort, uttered in a low and querulous tone; and
when uttered, it always caused Jeanette to start, and Marengo to crouch
closer to them. Could it be the voice of the cougar? or, more fearful
thought still, the snort of the grizzly bear? The latter was not
unlikely. They were now in a region where these fierce animals are to
be met with; and just in such a spot as one or more of them would choose
for their abode.
It was a fearful apprehension, and it would have banished sleep from the
eyes of the young hunters had they been certain that grizzly bears were
in their neighbourhood. They were not certain, however; still they
resolved not to sleep all at one time, but to keep watch in turns. The
fire was replenished with fresh wood, so that the blaze would enable
them to see for a good distance around; and then two of them lay down to
sleep again, while the third watched, sitting up with his piece in
readiness for any sudden attack. Each took a two-hours' turn as
sentinel until the morning broke, which put an end to their fears, as no
enemy appeared to be near them.
They now bestirred themselves, let loose their horses upon the grass,
performed their ablutions in the crystal water of the spring, and made
ready their breakfast. They did not fail to observe, that their stock
of the jerked meat could serve them but a day or two longer; for the
wolves at their last camp had carried off a considerable portion of it.
They were not without fears as to their future subsistence, as there
seemed to be no game in that part of the country except antelopes; and
their experience already taught them how little chance they had of
capturing these. Should they not fall in with the buffalo, therefore,
they might starve with hunger.
These thoughts occupied them while engaged in preparing and eating
breakfast; and they resolved to go on half rations of the bear-meat, and
economise the little of it that was left.
After breakfast they held a council as to their future route. Should
they go north, south, east, or west, from the butte? They were of
different minds. At length, however, they all agreed that before coming
to any determination, it would be best to climb the butte, and from its
top get a view of the surrounding country, which might enable them to
resolve upon the best route to be taken. Perhaps they might see the
buffaloes from its summit--as it, no doubt, commanded an extensive view
of the prairie on all sides.
Shouldering their guns, and leaving their blankets and utensils by the
spring, they started on foot to find a place where they might ascend the
eminence. They went round by the western end, for their camp was near
its north-east side. As they proceeded, they began to fear that there
was no place where the hill could be climbed. On all sides it appeared
to be a precipice rising perpendicularly from the plain! Here and there
loose rocks lay at its base, as if they had fallen from above; and trees
grew out of its face, clinging by their roots in the seams of the cliff.
Scattered pines standing upon its topmost edge, stretched their
branches out over the plain; and the aloe plants, the yuccas, and cacti,
added to the wild picturesqueness of its appearance.
On reaching the westernmost point of the butte, a new object presented
itself to the eyes of our adventurers. It resembled a range of cliffs,
or low mountains, at a great distance off to the west, and running from
north to south as far as they could see. It _was_, in fact, a range of
cliffs--similar to those of the butte. It was the eastern escarpment of
the famous "Llano Estacado," or "Staked Plain." The boys had often
heard hunters speak of this tableland, and they recognised its features
at a glance. The butte around which they were travelling was nothing
more than an outlying "mesa" of this singular formation of the prairies.
After gazing, for a moment, on the far-off bluffs, our young hunters
continued on their course, keeping around the southern side of the
eminence. Still the cliffs rose perpendicularly, and offered no slope
by which they might be scaled. They appeared even higher on this side;
and in some places hung over, with dark jutting rocks, and large trees
growing horizontally outward.
At one place the boys had halted, and were gazing upward, when several
strange-looking creatures suddenly appeared upon the edge of the
precipice above them. They were animals, but such as they had never
seen before. Each of them was as large as a common deer, and nearly of
the same colour--reddish upon the back and flanks, though the throat,
hips, and under parts, were of a whitish hue. They were nearly
deer-shaped, though of somewhat stouter proportions, and to these they
bore a strong resemblance in many other respects. In the form of their
heads and general expression of their faces they resembled sheep more
than any other animals. But the most singular part of them was the
horns; and these enabled our hunters at a glance to tell what sort of
animals they were. They were the "cimmarons," or wild sheep of the
Rocky Mountains.
In regard to their horns, they differed very much from one another; and
at first sight there appeared to be two distinct species of animals.
Some of them had short horns--not over six inches in length--rising from
the crown of the head and bending slightly backward, without widening
much between the tips. These were the females of the flock. The males,
however, presented an appearance altogether different, owing to the
immense size of their horns. These grew out immediately over their
eyes, first curving backwards, and then forwards again, until their
points nearly touched the jaws of the animals on both sides. The horns
of some were more than a yard in length, and quite half as much in
circumference at the base, where they were deeply indented with
ring-like grooves and protuberances, such as are seen in those of the
common ram. These huge appendages gave the creatures a singular and
imposing appearance, as they stood out upon the brink of the precipice
outlined against the blue sky. There were about a dozen of them in
all--both males and females,--but the males could be more plainly seen,
as they were farther forward upon the cliff, looking down and snuffing
the tainted air.
As soon as our young hunters had recovered from their first surprise at
this novel sight, all three levelled their pieces with the intention of
firing. But the cimmarons seemed to have guessed their design; for, as
the guns were pointed upward, they wheeled, and were out of sight in a
twinkling.
The boys remained on the spot for more than a quarter of an hour, in
hopes that the animals would again make their appearance on the
precipice above. The latter, however, did not return. They had
satisfied their curiosity; or else, wiser than the antelopes, they were
not going to let it lure them into danger. Our hunters, therefore, were
at length constrained to leave the spot, and continue their search for a
path that might lead upward.
They were now more anxious than ever to reach the summit of the butte.
There was a flock of wild sheep upon it, and from these they hoped to
replenish their larder. As they proceeded, every crevice or ravine that
seemed to lead up the cliff was carefully examined; but upon all its
southern front no practicable path could be discovered.
"There must be _some_ way up," said Francois, "else how could the sheep
have got there?"
"Maybe," suggested Basil, "they were bred up there, and have never been
down to the plain."
"No," said Lucien, "that is not likely, brother. There can be no water,
I think, upon the table above; and these animals require drink as well
as others. They must descend occasionally to the spring for it."
"Then there is a path," said Francois.
"No doubt, for _them_ there is," replied Lucien; "but for all that, we
may not be able to follow it. These animals, although hoofed as sheep
are, can scale a cliff like cats, or spring down one like squirrels. It
is in that way they are enabled to escape from wolves, panthers, and
other beasts who would prey upon them."
"I have heard," said Basil, "that they can fling themselves down for a
hundred feet or more upon their horns, without receiving the slightest
injury. Is that true, Luce?"
"Both the Indians and trappers affirm it, and intelligent travellers
have believed them. Whether it be true or not is a question among
naturalists, that remains to be cleared up. It is certain that they can
leap downward for a very great distance--that they can alight on the
narrowest shelves of a precipice without a hoof slipping--that they can
spring across fearful chasms, and run swiftly along ledges where a dog
or a wolf would not dare to venture. Indeed, they seem to delight in
such situations--as if it gave them a pleasure to court danger, just as
a school-boy likes to luxuriate in perilous feats of agility."
"Are these the same that are called `big-horns' by the hunters?"
demanded Francois.
"The same," answered Lucien; "`cimmaron' is the name given by the
Spaniards--the earliest explorers of these regions. Naturalists have
named them `argali,' from their resemblance to the argali (_Ovis
ammon_), or wild sheep of Europe. They are not the same species,
however. In my opinion, they are _not wild sheep at all_, but true
antelopes, as much so as the chamois of the Alps, or the prong-horns of
the prairie. Indeed, to say that our common sheep sprung from the
argali seems a very absurd theory. There is but little resemblance
between the two animals, except about the head and horns of the rams;
and, I think, no circumstances could have caused such a difference as
there exists between them in other respects. I should say, then, that
the big-horns are not sheep, but antelopes--_mountain_ _antelopes_, you
might call them, to distinguish them from their prong-horned cousins,
who prefer to range over the plains, while they, on the contrary, spend
most of their time among the steep and craggy cliffs."
An exclamation from Basil, who was walking a few paces in advance, at
this moment summoned the attention of his brothers, and put an end to
this conversation. They had arrived at the eastern end of the butte,
which on that side presented a different appearance from either of the
others. There was a deep ravine that indented the cliff, and along its
channel a sloping path appeared to lead up to the top. This channel was
filled with large loose rocks, surrounded by an underwood of cacti and
acacia thorns; and it seemed as though the slope was sufficiently easy
to be ascended by a person on foot. Near the bottom of the ravine were
very large boulders; and a spring, more copious than the one where the
hunters had encamped, ran out from among them, and flowed south-eastward
through a fringe of grass and willows.
As the boys came up to the spring branch, some tracks in the soft mud
drew their attention. They were of an oblong shape, and larger than the
footprints of a man; but the deep holes made by five great claws at the
end of each told what animal had made them. They were the tracks of the
grizzly bear. There could be no doubt of this, for there were the
prints of the long plantigrade feet, the tubercules of the toes, and the
holes where the curving claws had sunk several inches into the mud. No
other animal could have made such marks--not even the black or brown
bear, whose claws are short in comparison with those of the grizzly
monster of the mountains.
For some moments our hunters hesitated under feelings of alarm; but, as
the animal that had made the tracks was not in sight, their fears
gradually subsided to some extent, and they began to consider what was
best to be done. Should they go up the ravine, and endeavour to reach
the summit? This would only be carrying out their original intention,
and they would have started upward without hesitation, had they not
discovered the bear-tracks. Seeing these, however, had put a new aspect
on the matter. If there were grizzly bears in the neighbourhood--and
this seemed very certain--the ravine was the most likely place to find
them in. Its thick underwood, with the numerous crevices that, like
caverns, appeared among the rocks on each side, were just such places as
grizzly bears delight in. Their lair might be in this very ravine, and
it would be a dangerous business to stumble upon it in passing up. But
our young hunters were full of courage. They had a keen desire to
ascend the butte--partly out of curiosity, and partly to get a shot at
the big-horns--and this desire triumphed over prudence. They resolved
to carry through what they had begun; and at length commenced to ascend,
Basil taking the lead.
It was severe climbing withal; and now and again they had to pull
themselves up by laying hold of branches and roots. They noticed that
_there was a trail_, which they followed upward. No doubt the
big-horns, or some other animals, had made this trail as they passed up
and down--though it was only distinguishable by a slight discoloration
upon the rocks, and by the earth being packed firmer in some places, as
if by hoofs or feet. A little better than half-way up the boys observed
a fissure, like the entrance of a cave, on one side of the ravine and
close to the trail. Around this the earthy colour of the rocks, the
absence of herbage, and the paddled appearance of the soil, suggested
the idea that some animal made its den there. They passed it in
silence, climbing as quickly as the nature of the ground would allow
them, and looking backwards with fear. In a few minutes they had
reached the escarpment of the butte; and, raising themselves by their
hands they peeped over, and at once obtained a view of its whole
table-like summit.
It was, as they had conjectured, perfectly level upon the top, with an
area-surface of about twenty or thirty acres. Pine-trees grew thinly
over it, with here and there a bush or two of acacia, the species known
as "mezquite." There was plenty of grass among the trees, and large
tussocks of "bunch grass" mingling with cactus and aloe plants, formed a
species of undergrowth. This, however, was only at two or three spots,
as for the most part the surface was open, and could be seen at a single
view. The hunters had hardly elevated their heads above the cliff, when
the herd of big-horns became visible. They were at the moment near the
western extremity of the table; and, to the astonishment of all, they
appeared leaping over the ground as if they were mad! They were not
attempting to escape; for they had not as yet noticed the boys, who, on
getting above, had crept cautiously behind some bushes. On the
contrary, the animals were skipping about in different directions at the
same time, and bounding high into the air. After a moment it was
observed that only those with the large horns were taking part in this
exercise, while the others were browsing quietly near them. It was soon
evident what the males were about. They were engaged in a fierce
conflict; and their angry snorts, with the loud cracking of their horns,
told that they were in terrible earnest. Now they backed from each
other--as rams usually do--and anon they would dash forward until their
heads met with a crash, as though the skulls of both had been splintered
by the concussion. Sometimes two fought by themselves, and at other
times three or four of them would come together, as if it mattered
little which was the antagonist. They all appeared to be equally the
enemies of one another. Strange to say, the ewes did not seem to
trouble themselves about the matter. Most of these were feeding
quietly, or if at times they looked up towards their belligerent lords,
it was with an air of nonchalance and indifference, as if they cared
nothing at all about the result.
Our hunters felt confident that they had the whole flock in a trap.
They had only to guard the pass by which they themselves had come up,
and then hunt the big-horns over the table at their leisure. It was
agreed, therefore, that Lucien with Marengo should remain there, while
Basil and Francois stole up for a first shot. They lost no time in
putting this plan into execution. They perceived that the fight
completely occupied the attention of the animals; and, taking advantage
of this, Basil and Francois crept over the ground--sheltering
themselves, as well as they could--until they had got within easy range.
Both arrived together behind a little clump of acacias; and, by a
signal from Basil, they raised themselves together to take aim. As they
did so, they saw one of the rams, who had been backing himself for a
rush, suddenly disappear over the edge of the cliff! They thought he
had tumbled over--as his legs were the last of him they had seen--but
they had no time to speculate upon the matter, as both pulled trigger at
the moment. Two of the animals were laid prostrate by their fire; while
the rest bounded off, ran out to a point of the table, and there halted.
Basil and Francois leaped to their feet, shouting for Lucien to be on
the alert: but, to their great surprise, the cimmarons, as if newly
terrified by their shouts, and finding their retreat cut off, sprang
over the precipice, disappearing instantly from view!
"They must be all killed," thought Basil and Francois; and, calling
Lucien to come up, all three ran to the point where the animals had
leaped off, and looked over. They could see the plain below, but no
big-horns! What had become of them?
"Yonder!" cried Francois; "yonder they go!" and he pointed far out upon
the prairie where several reddish-looking objects were seen flying like
the wind toward the far bluffs of the Llano Estacado. Lucien now
directed the eyes of his brothers to several ledge-like steps upon the
cliff, which, no doubt, the animals had made use of in their descent,
and had thus been enabled to reach the bottom in safety.
As soon as the cimmarons were out of sight, the hunters turned towards
the two that had been shot--both of which, a male and female, lay
stretched upon the grass and quite dead. The boys were about to
commence skinning them, when Basil and Francois remembered what they had
observed just before firing; and, curious to convince themselves whether
the big-horn had actually tumbled over the cliff by accident or leaped
off by design, they walked forward to the spot. On looking over the
edge, they saw a tree shaking violently below them, and among its
branches a large red body was visible. It was the cimmaron; and, to
their astonishment, they perceived that he was hanging suspended by one
of his huge horns, while his body and legs, kicking and struggling, hung
out at their full length in the empty air! It was evident he had
tumbled from the top contrary to his intentions; and had been caught
accidentally in the branches of the pine. It was a painful sight to
witness the efforts of the poor creature; but there was no means of
getting him off the tree, as he was far beyond their reach; and Basil,
having loaded his rifle, in order to put an end to his agony, sent a
bullet through his heart. The shot did not alter his position--as the
horn still held on to the branch--but the animal ceased struggling and
hung down dead,--to remain there, doubtless, until some hungry vulture
should espy him from afar, and, swooping down, strip the flesh from his
swinging carcass!