A MISHAP.
THE flight of so immense a number of bison during the dry season would
have filled the air with thick clouds of suffocating dust, but our
friends were spared this infliction. It was not only early in the
season, when the grass was green and the soil damp, but there had been a
heavy rainfall a couple of days before.
After the rear of the herd had thundered past, bellowing, flinging their
heels and putting forth their best exertions, as if Death himself were
nipping at their heels, the little party having quieted their horses,
remounted and gazed after the vanishing drove. A singular result of the
shots of Deerfoot and Mul-tal-la showed itself. In neither case was the
bison killed outright, but the one struck by the Shawanoe and four of
those hit by the Blackfoot were so badly wounded that they wabbled and
sagged down and were quickly crushed. Here and there, at varying
distances, the dark humps were seen in the trampled grass, looking like
mounds of brown dirt.
Since the four made it a rule to depend upon their rifles for food, they
had no sooner reloaded the weapons than they set out to secure their
dinner from the spoils before them. All had eaten bison meat before.
Though some profess to relish it, the flesh is rather tough and
sometimes so strong that it takes a hungry man to enjoy such a meal. The
animal, however, like all others, has his choice portions.
Mul-tal-la was sure that no more palatable feast could be had than from
buffalo tongue. Accordingly, he and Deerfoot, leaving the rest of the
game untouched, provided themselves with those delicacies, which were
well cooked by means of dried buffalo chips, and all declared themselves
well satisfied.
Strange that only a comparatively short time ago millions of bison
roamed over the prairies of the West, and to-day you never meet a
specimen except the few that are preserved with difficulty in
Yellowstone Park, and in several zoological collections. The last bison
must soon disappear and the animal become extinct, all because of the
wanton cruelty of men who called themselves sportsmen and butchered the
creatures by the thousand.
The dinner was made without water, which was a small matter, for there
was no need of the explorers suffering on that account, since streams
were abundant and they did not have to travel far to obtain the element
of the best quality.
It was about the middle of the afternoon that Deerfoot led the way up
another of the numerous rises in the prairie, and halted to give the
horses a needed rest. Although the pace was kept at a walk, traveling
through the luxuriant grass was trying, and consideration was due the
animals who did the work.
As usual, the four who dismounted scanned every part of the visible
horizon. George Shelton often called his spyglass into use while riding
over the plain, and thus gained the pleasure of being the first to
announce certain discoveries; but the elevations, that were never of
much extent, gave a more favorable view.
Directly westward, in a line with the course they were pursuing, all,
without the aid of the glass, observed five or six animals cropping the
grass. They were of delicate build, resembling deer, but looked more
dainty and graceful. It was not until after Mul-tal-la and Deerfoot had
studied them for several minutes through the glass that the former made
known their nature. They were antelopes, one of the fleetest and most
quick-sighted animals in the West.
Although they were fully a fourth of a mile away, they saw the travelers
the instant they came up the rise of land. They tossed their heads and
stared at the strangers while the latter were studying them. Then they
dashed off with the speed of the wind, but did not go far when they
stopped short, turned part way round and gazed at the horsemen, as if
expecting them to follow. Seeing they did not, the antelopes resumed
their grazing, the two most timid stopping every now and then to look
up, as if in doubt whether they ought not to place a greater distance
between them and the strange-looking creatures on the elevation.
“Would my brothers like to eat of antelope!” asked Mul-tal-la,
addressing all three of his companions.
“I suppose it would taste good,” replied Victor, “for everything tastes
that way in this part of the world, which I suppose is because I’m so
plaguey hungry most of the time.”
“Mul-tal-la cannot get nigh enough to bring down the antelopes,”
remarked Deerfoot, “for they go faster than any of our horses can run.”
“My brother Deerfoot cannot get near enough to shoot an antelope, but
Mul-tal-la finds no trouble in doing so.”
The brothers were astonished by the audacity of this remark. Did the
Blackfoot presume to think his fleetness of foot could be compared with
that of the Shawanoe, who had never met his equal? They looked at
Deerfoot to see how he took the slur. He was never troubled by such
trifles.
“It will please the heart of Deerfoot to see his brother bring back one
of the antelopes. Does he want Deerfoot’s gun?”
“No; it shall be done with Mul-tal-la’s bow and arrow,” was another
surprising declaration.
Saying no more, the Blackfoot, bearing his long bow in his right hand,
walked down the gentle slope and moved, not toward the antelopes, but to
the south. The timid creatures noticed him at once, for he made no
effort to conceal himself. All the six raised their heads and watched
him with evident misgiving. The two that had shown so much fear from the
first glanced first at him and then at the group on the rise in the
prairie, as if uncertain which was the most to be dreaded.
Had Mul-tal-la walked directly toward the animals they would have been
off like so many arrows, but he bore away as if they were not in his
mind. As it was, however, three of the antelopes galloped a hundred
yards or so to the north, when, seeing that their companions did not
follow, they stopped and resumed their staring.
The warrior walked steadily until he was equidistant from his friends
and from the antelopes. Still facing away from the latter, he now sank
to the ground and began creeping toward the animals. Deerfoot, who, like
the boys, was watching every movement, smiled.
“They will not let my brother come nigh enough to reach them with an
arrow,” he remarked, not a little amused over what looked like the
certain discomfiture of his companion, for, despite the tall grass, he
was sure to be detected by the creatures.
Sure enough, he had advanced but a little way when the whole six bounded
off as if they would never stop. Mul-tal-la ceased crawling, but did not
rise.
“What is he doing?” asked the puzzled Victor, closely watching the red
man, who could be plainly seen without the aid of the glass.
His action was curious. Still lying on his face, he raised one hand as
far above his head as he could reach, and slowly waved it from side to
side with a regular, pendulum movement. The antelopes that were bounding
off abruptly stopped, wheeled part way round and stared at the
oscillating hand. They stood for a little while, and then one of them
began stepping cautiously toward the object. The others reluctantly
imitated him, so that the singular sight of six antelopes marching
carefully in Indian file was displayed. Deerfoot chuckled, for he now
understood the trick.
Before long the leader paused, stared a moment, and then, whirling
suddenly around, dashed off with an amazing burst of speed, only,
however, to run for less than fifty yards, when the former performance
was repeated. The foremost halted, turned once more and stepped gingerly
in the direction of that hand, with the fringed covering for the arm,
swaying from side to side. This time he approached nearer than before,
though with frequent halts and bluffs at dashing off again.
Had Mul-tal-la varied his rhythmic swing or risen to a stooping posture
even, or tried to creep nearer, the antelopes would have fled like so
many birds on the wing. But his action was that of an automaton, and all
the time he lay low in the grass, never removing his eyes from the game
he had marked for his own.
First forward, then a halt, then a brief retreat, followed by a still
closer approach, the little farce went on, until the interested Deerfoot
and the boys saw that the foremost antelope was almost within reach of
Mul-tal-la. Then for some time the issue looked doubtful.
But the same cause that has been the death of unnumbered antelopes
proved the undoing of another on this particular afternoon. Five
remained in the background, but one, and he the best of the bunch, kept
slowly stepping, with frequent stops, until at last he crossed the dead
line and sealed his fate.
The pretty creature seemed to awaken to the startling fact, for he
abruptly wheeled to dash off. In the act of turning Mul-tal-la quickly
drew his arrow to a head and launched it. The watchers caught a glimpse
of the feathered missile as it rose from the grass, made a slight curve,
and, while the antelope was turning, buried itself to the feather in his
side, entering just back of the fore leg.
The victim made a leap straight up in air, spun around several times
like a top, and then dived to the ground, rolled on its side, and, after
some pawings, ceased to struggle. Never was game more fairly brought
down.
The moment Mul-tal-la let fly with the arrow he sprang to his feet and
hurried after it. The five antelopes were off at full speed, never
pausing, and soon disappeared in the distance. The Blackfoot was seen to
bend over his quarry and busy himself with his knife. Then he walked
proudly toward his friends, bringing his prize with him. He had done
what he promised, and all congratulated him.
It was still early in the afternoon and the party resumed traveling,
deflecting a little to the south. Before it was dark they came to a
small tributary of the Arkansas, where they decided to camp for the
night. When the antelope meat was dressed, washed and broiled in the
same way as their midday meal had been prepared, it proved rather
disappointing. The animal was lean, the meat tough and not specially
palatable. It was agreed that they would have done better by making use
of the best portions of one of the bison which had been brought down.
Mul-tal-la, who knew all about these timid creatures, told his friends
of their most striking peculiarity. While it is impossible to approach
them by direct means, an appeal to their insatiate curiosity rarely or
never fails. Even the wolves make use of this remarkable weakness. One
of the cunning pests will lie in the grass, revealing just enough of his
head or body to attract the notice of the antelopes in the distance. The
trick is more difficult in this case than when a hunter plays it.
Sometimes it is so prolonged, because of the suspicions of the game,
that one wolf will relieve another before the victim is brought near
enough to be seized.
A more common plan is for the wolves to attack the creatures when
crossing rivers or large streams. They are poor swimmers, though among
the fleetest of animals, and are helpless when thus assailed.
The morrow proved as fine as the preceding two or three days. The sun
shone bright and the few clouds drifting across the sky only served to
make the deep blue softer and more beautiful. While the morning was
somewhat cool, the weather was quickly modified by the rays of the sun.
Even the horses seemed to catch the glow of high spirits and broke into
an easy gallop without any urging on the part of their riders. Zigzag
was the only one that objected, and he did it through simple
stubbornness, for his burden was not onerous.
The afternoon of this day brought an experience to Deerfoot the like of
which was never known before or afterward. He was thrown from his horse,
and that, too, when his gait was a walk. It came about in this manner:
He was riding slightly in advance, as was his custom. He had swept the
horizon with his eyes, as he always did at intervals, and seeing nothing
unusual, allowed himself to sink into a reverie. This was not amiss, for
such spells of meditation never lasted long and nothing of an alarming
character could steal undetected upon them, even if he should forget his
surroundings for an indefinite time. Mul-tal-la was always alert, and
George Shelton was as fond as ever of appealing to his spyglass.
The horse Simon was walking easily forward when one hoof entered a
gopher hole and he sank to his knee. The stop was so abrupt that
Deerfoot, who was entirely off his guard, slid over the animal’s neck to
the ground. He was taken completely by surprise, without a second for
preparation, but even then he dropped upon his feet and turned to learn
the cause of the mishap.
George and his brother smiled at the discomfiture of their friend, but
ceased the next instant when they saw that his horse had been seriously
hurt. He attempted to take a step, but checked himself with a moan of
pain, and then rested on his three legs. The alarmed Deerfoot stooped
and gently passed his hand over the injured portion. Simon moaned again
and placed his nose on the shoulder of his owner, as if begging him to
give him relief.
The young Shawanoe straightened up, patted the forehead of the suffering
beast, and said in a choking voice:
“His leg is broken!”
And then he nerved himself to do the hardest thing of his life. With the
eyes of the dumb animal fixed appealingly upon him, as if he read his
purpose, Deerfoot brought his rifle to a level and sent a bullet through
the brain of the horse.
It was an act of mercy, but it hurt the youth more than the victim. He
stood with the smoking weapon in his hand, looked at Simon as he sank
unconscious to the ground, breathing out his life as he did so with a
single pitiful moan. Then Deerfoot turned away and, bowing his head,
sobbed like a child.
Simon had always been a good animal, though he was not the equal, either
in speed or intelligence, of many others; but a man and horse cannot be
comrades very long without forming an affection for each other.
Deerfoot’s kindness to such dumb beasts always drew them toward him, and
he had learned to love this devoted horse who had borne him hundreds of
miles from his home.
Neither George nor Victor Shelton spoke, for they sympathized so deeply
with their friend that their voices would have broken had they tried to
utter a word. They had reined up their own animals, and now quietly
waited for the Shawanoe to speak. The Blackfoot had also halted and,
instead of looking at his comrade, turned his face toward the west. Not
a muscle of his face moved, and no one could have read his thoughts, but
it cannot be doubted that he sympathized with the young Shawanoe. Unable
to console him, Mul-tal-la held his peace.
It was several minutes before Deerfoot was able to master his grief. By
and by he regained his self-control, but all saw the traces of tears
when he faced his friends. He spoke in an even voice, but his words were
remarkable:
“My brothers, Deerfoot has read the Bible through many times. He has
searched every page, but has not yet found a place where it says that
the poor animals like Simon shall not inherit the kingdom that awaits
us. Deerfoot believes he shall meet Simon again in that country, and if
my brothers think different let them not say so.”
And yet there are thousands to-day who hold the same sweet belief that
was held by Deerfoot the Shawanoe.
------------------------------------------------------------------------