"We arose early next morning; and, having eaten a hearty breakfast of
elk-steaks and coffee, began to consider what was the next thing to be
done. We had now quite enough of meat to carry us to the end of the
longest journey, and it only remained to be cured, so that it would keep
on the way. But how were we to cure it, when we had not a particle of
salt? Here was a difficulty which for a moment looked us in the face.
Only for a moment, for I soon recollected that there was a way of
preserving meat without salt, which has always been much in use among
Spanish people, and in countries where salt is very scarce and dear. I
had heard, too, that this method was much practised among the trappers
and hunters when laying up a stock of buffalo flesh, or of any other
animals they might chance to kill. It is called `jerking,' and the meat
when thus prepared goes by the name of `jerked meat.' By the Spaniards
it is called `tasajo.'
"I remembered having read an account of the process, and after
instructing Cudjo in it, we immediately set about `jerking' the elk. We
first built a large fire, upon which we placed a great many sticks of
green wood freshly cut from the tree. This was done so that the fire
might burn slowly, and throw out a great volume of smoke. We then stuck
several stakes into the ground around the fire, and stretched lines from
one to the other. This being done, we took down the quarters of the elk
and removed the meat from the bones--cutting it off in thin strips, each
of them over a yard in length. These strips we hung over the lines
already prepared, so that they might be exposed to the smoke and heat of
the fire, although not so much as to cause them to be broiled. The
whole process was now ended--excepting that it would be necessary for us
to look occasionally to the fire, as well as to see that the dogs and
wolves did not leap up and snap off the meat, that hung down from the
lines like so many strings of sausages. In about three days the flesh
of the elk would be `jerked,' and capable of being, carried to any
distance without the danger of spoiling.
"During these three days we all remained very much in the neighbourhood
of our camp. We might have procured more game had we gone out to hunt
for it, but we did not do this for three reasons:--First, because we had
enough for our wants; secondly, we did not wish, under the
circumstances, to waste a single charge of ammunition; and, lastly,
because we had seen the tracks of bears and panthers by the stream. We
did not wish to risk meeting with any of these customers in the dark and
tangled woods, which we should have been likely enough to do, had we
gone far out in pursuit of game. We were determined to leave them
unmolested as long as they should preserve a similar line of conduct
towards us; and, in order to prevent any of them from intruding into our
camp while we were asleep, we kept a circle of fires burning around the
wagon throughout the night.
"During these three days, however, we were not without fresh viands, and
those, too, of the most luxurious and delicate kinds. I had succeeded
in killing a wild turkey, which, along with several others, had entered
the glade, and run close up to our camp before they saw us. He was a
large `gobbler'--over twenty pounds in weight--and, I need not tell you,
proved far more delicious eating than his tame cousins of the farm-yard.
"At the end of the third day, the elk-meat was as dry as a chip; and
taking it from the lines we packed it in small bundles, and placed it in
our wagon. We now thought of waiting only until our animals should be
fairly recruited; and as both horse and ox were up to their eyes, from
morning till night, in rich pasturage, and began to fill out about the
flanks, we were congratulating ourselves that we should not have long to
wait.
"Of how little value are human calculations! Just at that moment, when
we were so sanguine of being able soon to escape from our desert prison,
an event occurred, which rendered that escape altogether impossible--for
years at least, and it might have been, for ever. But I will detail the
circumstance as it happened.
"It was on the afternoon of the fourth day after we had entered the
valley. We had just finished dinner, and were sitting near the fire
watching the two children, Mary and Luisa, as they rolled in joyous
innocence over the smooth green sward. My wife and I were conversing
about the little Luisa--about the unfortunate end of her father and
mother--both of whom, we believed, had fallen victims in the savage
massacre. We were talking of how we should bring her up--whether in
ignorance of the melancholy fate of her parents, and in the belief that
she was one of our own children--or whether, when she had grown to a
sufficient age to understand it, we should reveal to her the sad story
of her orphanage. Our thoughts now reverted, for the first time, to our
own wretched prospects, for these, too, had been blighted by the loss of
our Scotch friend. We were going to a strange land--a land where we
knew no one--of whose language, even, we were ignorant--a land, too,
whose inhabitants were neither prosperous of themselves, nor disposed to
countenance prosperity in others--much less of the race to which we
belonged. We were going, too, without an object; for that which had
brought us so far was now removed by the death of our friend. We had no
property--no money--not enough even to get us shelter for a single
night: what would become of us? They were bitter reflections which we
drew from thinking on the future; but we did not permit them to torture
us long.
"`Fear not, Robert,' said my noble wife, placing her hand in mine, and
looking cheerfully in my face; `_He_ who has guarded us through the past
is not likely to fail us in the future.'
"`Dear Mary,' I replied, roused to new life and energy by her consoling
words, `you are right--you are right--in Him only let us trust.'
"At that moment a strange noise sounded in our ears, coming from the
direction of the forest. It seemed distant at first, but every moment
drew nearer and nearer. It was like the voice of some animal `routing'
from extreme terror or pain. I looked around for the ox. The horse was
in the glade, but his companion was not to be seen. Again the voice
came from the woods, louder and more fearful than ever. It was plainly
the bellowing of an ox; but what could it mean? Once more it rose upon
the air, nearer and more distinct, and sounded as though the animal was
running as it cried!
"I sprang to my rifle--Frank and Harry also seized theirs--Cudjo armed
himself with the Indian spear; and the dogs, that had started to their
feet, stood waiting a signal to rush forth.
"Once more broke out that terrible cry; and we could now hear the
sweeping of leaves, and the crackling of branches, as if some huge
animal was tearing its way through the bushes. The birds flew up from
the thicket, terrified and screaming--the horse neighed wildly--the dogs
sent forth their impatient yelps, and our children shrieked in affright!
Again rose, the deep and sonorous roar, filling the valley with its
agonising tones. The cane rattled as it yielded to the crushing hoof.
We saw the leaves of the thick underwood shaking at a distance--then
nearer--then up to the edge of the glade--and the next moment a bright
red object appeared through the leaves, and dashed out into the opening.
We saw at a glance it was the ox; but what could it mean? Was he
pursued by some monster--some beast of prey? No! not pursued, but
already overtaken. Look! see what the ox carries on his shoulders! Oh,
heavens! what a sight!
"We were all for a while as if paralysed. Between the shoulders of the
ox, and clutching him around the neck, was a large animal. It at first
sight appeared to be a mass of brown shaggy hair, and part of the ox
himself--so closely was it fastened upon him. As they drew nearer,
however, we could distinguish the spreading claws and short muscular
limbs of a fearful creature. Its head was down near the throat of the
ox, which we could see was torn, and dappled with crimson spots. The
mouth of the strange animal was resting upon his jugular vein. It was
tearing his flesh, and drinking his blood as he ran!
"The ox, as he came out of the thicket, galloped but slowly, and
bellowed with less energy than before. We could perceive that he
tottered as he ran, still making for the camp. In a short time, he was
in our midst, when, uttering a long moan, he fell to the earth with the
death-rattle in his throat!
"The strange animal, roused by the shock, suddenly let go its hold, and
raised itself erect over the carcass. Now, for the first time, I saw
what it was. It was the fearful _carcajou_! Now, too, for the first
time, it seemed to be aware of our presence, and suddenly placed itself
in an attitude to spring. The next moment it had launched its body
towards Mary and the children!
"We all three fired as it sprang forward, but our feelings had unnerved
us, and the bullets whistled idly away. I drew my knife and rushed
after; but Cudjo was before me, and I saw the blade of his spear
glancing towards it like a flash of light, and burying itself in the
long hair. With a hoarse growl, the monster turned, and, to my joy, I
saw that it was impaled upon the spear, which had passed through the
skin of its neck. Instead of yielding, however, it rushed up the shaft,
until Cudjo was compelled to drop the weapon, to save himself from being
torn by its long, fierce claws. Before it could clear itself from the
spear, I had drawn my large pistol, and fired directly into its breast.
The shot proved mortal; and the shaggy monster rolled over, and
struggled for some minutes in the agonies of death. _We_ were saved;
but our poor ox, that was to have drawn us out of the Desert, lay upon
the grass a lifeless and almost bloodless carcase!"