Our young travellers had now arrived upon the great buffalo-path.
Without halting, they turned their horses to the right, and followed the
trail. It led directly towards the north, and they had no difficulty in
following it, as the prairie, for a tract of miles in width, was cut up
by the hoofs of the animals; and, in some parts, where the ground was
softer and more loamy, the surface presented the appearance of having
been turned up by the plough! At other places the hard green turf had
resisted the hoof, but even there the grass was so beaten down, that the
trail was a perfectly plain one. Without troubling themselves about the
direction, therefore, the little party rode briskly forward, full of
hope that they would soon overtake the buffaloes. But their hopes were
not so soon to be realised. These animals had gone upon their annual
migration to the north; and as they were keeping almost continually upon
the run--scarcely stopping to rest or pasture themselves--it would be no
easy matter to come up with them. At night our travellers were obliged
to diverge from the trail, in order to get grass for their horses; for,
upon a belt of at least four miles in width which the buffaloes had
passed over, not a blade of grass was left standing.
But another want now began to be felt by the party--one that filled them
with serious apprehensions. At the end of the second day their stock of
dried bear's meat gave out--not an ounce of it was left--and they lay
down upon the prairie supperless and hungry. What rendered the prospect
still more disheartening, they were passing through a region entirely
destitute of game--where no animal is ever seen except the buffaloes
themselves, an occasional antelope, or the ever-present prairie-wolf.
It was a region essentially _desert_ in its character; although the dry
plains were covered with a sward of the famous "buffalo-grass"
(_Sesleria dactyloides_), which forms the favourite pasture of these
wild cattle. As for the antelopes, they love these desert solitudes; as
their free open range affords them an opportunity, from their superior
fleetness, of escaping from every enemy. But in these parts they are
more than usually shy; and although several of them were seen on the
way, our hunters vainly endeavoured to approach within shooting distance
of them. Wolves they could have shot; but they were not as yet prepared
to satisfy their hunger upon the flesh of these filthy, fox-like,
creatures. That large troops of wolves had gone forward, hanging after
the great herd, was evident. Every now and then our hunters saw proof
of this, in the clean-picked skeletons of buffaloes that lay along the
path. These they knew were such as had got disabled and separated from
the drove; for numerous accidents of this kind--owing to the bulls
goring one another, or being enfeebled by age and disease--take place
during the migration of the vast herds. Were it not so, the wolves
would never think of following them as they do; for a buffalo in good
health can scatter a whole pack of these cowardly, skulking jackals.
But the average accidents which occur when such numbers of buffaloes are
together--the prospect of old ones, weak and weary, being separated from
their companions--of numbers getting mired upon the banks of some muddy
river, or drowned in crossing it--of cows heavy with calf falling
behind, or with calves already on the hoof, loitering for the purpose of
suckling them--the prospect of these chances, combined with the still
more enticing hope that the buffaloes will be attacked by a party of
Indian hunters, often carries a pack of wolves for hundreds of miles
across the prairie on the heels of a great herd. In fact, some of these
wolves, both of the white and prairie species, seem to have no fixed
place of abode; but hang upon the skirts of the buffalo "gangs"
throughout all their extended migrations.
I have said that, upon the second night after leaving the butte, our
travellers went to sleep supperless. On the third day, they began to
feel the cravings of hunger in good earnest. Neither beast nor bird
appeared in sight upon the wild desert plains that stretched inimitably
around them. About noon, as they were riding through a thicket of the
wild sage (_Artemisia tridentata_), a brace of those singular birds,
sage-cocks or prairie-grouse (_Tetrao urophasianus_), the largest of all
the grouse family, whirred up before the heads of their horses.
Francois, with his ever-ready gun, fired at them, but they were too
distant for the shot; and the next moment both disappeared over the
swells of the prairie. The sight only tantalised the unsuccessful
hunters, and added to the hungry craving of appetites already sharp
almost beyond endurance. They felt that there was no chance of getting
anything to eat, before they should come up with the buffaloes. That
was their only hope; and they spurred their horses afresh, and rode on
as fast as the animals could travel.
Towards night their hunger had increased to a painful degree; and the
eyes of all wandered occasionally upon Jeanette and the dog Marengo.
They began to contemplate the necessity of sacrificing one or other of
these animals. It would be a sad alternative--as both the mule and the
dog were looked upon more in the light of companions than slaves. Both
had done good service during the expedition. But for Marengo, Francois
might never have been found; and Jeanette, in addition to having
satisfactorily accomplished the duty assigned to her, had saved them
from an encounter with one of the cougars. But all these services must
now be forgotten, when starvation was the alternative; and our
adventurers began to talk seriously about which of these two faithful
servants should be made the first victim. Neither was fat. Jeanette
had never been so in all her life--at least so long as her present
owners had been acquainted with her--and Marengo had grown gaunt and
bony upon this lengthened expedition. Jeanette could not be otherwise
than tough, and Marengo looked anything but tender. So far as that was
concerned, it might be a toss-up which of them was first "put to the
knife."
But other considerations had their weight with the boys. Basil disliked
parting with his hound, that for many years had been a great favourite,
and the dog was endeared to all from late circumstances. His conduct at
the time when Francois was lost--his usefulness as a sentinel at many a
lonely camp-fire--and his valuable services rendered upon other
occasions, had fixed him firmly in the affections of his young masters;
and they would have endured hunger to the utmost extremity rather than
sacrifice him. Jeanette, on the other hand, was but a mule--a selfish,
wicked, kicking mule. This was true; but to them she had been a useful
animal, and would not have kicked any one of them, although she would
have kicked all the world besides. Still the feeling with which
Jeanette was regarded was more a feeling of gratitude than of love. It
was far different from the sentiment held towards Marengo.
With these considerations passing through the minds of our hungry
hunters, it is easy to guess the result of their deliberations. The
sentence was at length pronounced--a unanimous one--_Jeanette must die_!
Poor old Jeanette! She little knew what they were talking about. She
little thought that her days were about being numbered--that the time
was nigh when she should carry a pack no more. She little expected that
she was about to kick up her heels upon the prairie for the last time--
that in a few hours her life-blood would be let forth--and her old ribs
be roasting and sputtering over a camp-fire!
Yes, it was decreed that Jeanette should die! but when and where this
terrible tragedy was to take place, was not yet determined upon. At
their first halting-place, of course; but where was that to be? for,
after having resolved upon the death of Jeanette, they travelled on for
miles without arriving at any place where it would be possible to halt
for the night! No water appeared, and without water they could not with
safety encamp. Early in the afternoon they had entered upon a strange
tract, over which the road of the buffaloes led them. It was a part of
the prairie--a series of low hills composed of pure gypsum. These
extended around them, as far as our travellers could see, presenting on
all sides a picture of alabaster whiteness. Neither plant, nor tree,
nor any sign of vegetable life relieved the monotonous uniformity of the
landscape. Turn to what side they might, their eyes were met by the
lime-like surface of hill and dale, dazzling the sight with its milky
whiteness. The sun, reflected upward, pierced their bodies, and parched
them with thirst. They breathed a hot atmosphere filled with gypsum
dust, that by the trampling of the buffalo herd had been reduced to an
impalpable powder, and floated about suspended in the air. This added
to the agony of their thirst; and it was difficult for them to tell
whether they suffered most from the want of food, or the want of water!
How far might this singular tract extend? They could form no conjecture
as to the distance. Lucien had heard that such formations sometimes
stretched for many miles. If so, they might never be able to cross it--
thirsty and exhausted as both they and the animals were--for, eager to
come up with the buffalo, they had rested but very little during the
previous days. They began to labour under serious apprehensions. The
appetite of thirst became stronger than that of hunger--its cravings
more difficult to be endured.
Guided by the buffalo-tracks, they rode gloomily on, in the midst of a
white cloud that enveloped them throughout all that fearful journey.
They had no difficulty in following the trail. The heavy dust showed
where the drove had passed; and every here and there great circular
hollows showed where the buffaloes had "wallowed." The hope that these
animals, guided by their usual instincts, had gone in the direction of
water, to some degree sustained our travellers in their onward struggle.
The shades of evening were closing over the earth, and the alabaster
hills were assuming an ashy blue colour, when the little cavalcade
emerged from the dusty ravines of gypsum, and once more trod the green
prairie. The country before them was still rolling, but they kept on
along the well marked trail--their animals stepping more freely, as if
inspired with new hope at the change which had taken place upon the
surface. There was something in the appearance of the landscape ahead
that led to the belief that water was not far distant; and, sure enough,
it was not; for, on mounting the crest of a prairie-swell, over which
ran the buffalo-trail, a small rivulet was espied in the glen below. At
the sight, Jeanette, as well as the three horses, pricked up their ears;
and, making an effort to trot, were soon at the bottom of the hill, and
up to their knees in the water.
It was fortunate for them that it proved a freshwater stream. Had it
been a salt one--and such are very common in the neighbourhood of these
gypsum formations--they could never have gone farther. They would all
have perished upon its banks.
But it was fresh water--cool and fresh--and our travellers first drank
of it, and then bathed themselves in its flood, until they had washed
their bodies free from the annoying gypsum dust. After this they set
about making some arrangements for their night bivouac.
The copious draughts of water, which all of them had taken, in some
measure relieved them from the painful sensations of hunger they had
experienced; and they began to consider whether they might not be able
to give Jeanette a respite--at least until the morning. While
deliberating upon this, they noticed that Marengo had strayed away from
them. They looked around, wondering what had become of him, or where he
could have gone. They espied the hound at some distance up the stream,
and apparently engaged with some object upon the bank. They all ran
towards him. On arriving near the spot, they perceived that it was the
skeleton of a large buffalo with which the dog was engaged. The poor
brute, hungry as he was, could do but little else than lick it; for the
wolves had not left as much meat upon it as would have filled the
smallest of his teeth! Even the pieces of torn skin that lay around had
been chewed dry by these ravenous animals; and the bones appeared as
free from flesh as if they had been scraped by a knife. Had an
anatomist been ordered to prepare the skeleton for a museum, he could
not have cleaned it more effectually.
It was not very cheering to contemplate this useless skeleton; and the
boys were about returning to their camping-place, when the idea occurred
to Lucien that the bones might, at least, yield a _soup_. He, of
course, communicated this idea to the others, and it was at once agreed
that they should boil them and try. It was quite a happy thought. No
doubt the bones, which were fresh, and not yet dry, would make an
excellent soup; and all three at once set about preparing to cook it.
Francois gathered sage-bushes to kindle a fire with, while Basil got
hold of Lucien's little hatchet, and set to work to separate the ribs
and joints of the skeleton. Lucien, seeing that there were several
kinds of plants growing on the margin of the rivulet, went down to
examine them--in hopes that he might find the wild onion or the
prairie-turnip among them, or perhaps some other root or vegetable that
might help to enrich their pottage.
While all three were engaged in their separate duties, a loud
exclamation from Basil drew the attention of his brothers. It was a
shout of joy, followed by a wild laugh, like the laugh of a maniac!
Francois and Lucien looked up in affright--thinking that something
disagreeable had happened--for they could not understand why Basil
should be laughing so loudly at such a time, and under such gloomy
circumstances.
As they looked at him he still continued to laugh, waving the hatchet
around his head as if in triumph.
"Come here, brothers!" shouted he; "come here! Ha! ha! ha! Here's a
supper for three hungry individuals! Ha! ha! ha! What shallow fellows
we are, to be sure! Why, we are as stupid as the donkey that preferred
eating the hay with the bread and butter beside him. Look here! and
here! and there! There's a supper for you. Ha! ha! ha!"
Lucien and Francois had now arrived upon the ground; and seeing Basil
point to the great joints of the buffalo, and turn them over and over,
at once understood the cause of his mirth. _These joints were full of
marrow_!
"Pounds of it," continued Basil; "the very tit-bits of the buffalo--
enough to make suppers for a dozen of us; and yet we were going to sleep
supperless, or the next thing to it--going to starve in the midst of
plenty! And we have been travelling among such treasures for three days
past! Why, we deserve to starve for being so simple. But come,
brothers! help me to carry these great joints to the fire--I'll show you
how to cook a supper."
There are eight marrow-bones in the buffalo, containing several pounds
of this substance. As Basil had heard from the old hunters, it is
esteemed the most delicious part of the animal; and is rarely left
behind when a buffalo has been killed. The best method of preparing it
is by simply _roasting it in the bone_; although the Indians and
trappers often eat it raw. The stomachs of our young hunters were not
strong enough for this; and a couple of the shank-bones were thrown into
the fire, and covered over with red cinders.
In due time the marrow was supposed to be sufficiently _baked_; and the
bones having been cracked by Lucien's hatchet, yielded up their savoury
store--which all three ate with a great relish. A cup of cool water
washed it down; and around the camp-fire of the boy hunters thirst and
hunger were now contemplated only as things of the past. Jeanette was
_respited_, without one dissentient voice.
Our adventurers were surrounded once more with the cheerful atmosphere
of hope. There was still enough of marrow in the remaining bones to
last them for two days at the least; for this marrow is a most
nourishing food. Moreover, by following the buffalo-trail, they would
be likely to fall in with other skeletons of these animals; and all
apprehensions on the score of food now vanished from their minds.
Another fact, which the skeleton of the buffalo revealed to them, added
to their joyful anticipations. They had observed on first going up to
it--that the _bones were still fresh_! The wolves had not been long
gone from it. It could not have been a long time killed. All this
showed, that the buffaloes themselves had but very recently passed over
the ground, and could not be far distant. These were cheering thoughts;
and for a while the young hunters sat around the sage-fire, revolving
them in their minds, and conversing upon them. Then, having offered
thanks to that Being who had so many times miraculously preserved them,
they rolled themselves in their blankets, and, notwithstanding a heavy
shower of rain that fell, once more found the solace of a good night's
sleep.