A few days afterwards, another adventure befell me; and I began to think
that I was destined to become a hero among the "mountain men." A small
party of the traders, myself among the number, had pushed forward ahead
of the caravan. Our object was to arrive at Santa Fe a day or two
before the waggons, in order to have everything arranged with the
Governor for their entrance into that capital. We took the route by the
Cimmaron.
Our road, for a hundred miles or so, lay through a barren desert,
without game, and almost without water. The buffalo had already
disappeared, and deer were equally scarce. We had to content ourselves
with the dried meat which we had brought from the settlements. We were
in the deserts of the artemisia. Now and then we could see a stray
antelope bounding away before us, but keeping far out of range. They,
too, seemed to be unusually shy.
On the third day after leaving the caravan, as we were riding near the
Cimmaron, I thought I observed a pronged head disappearing behind a
swell in the prairie. My companions were sceptical, and none of them
would go with me; so, wheeling out of the trail, I started alone. One
of the men, for Gode was behind, kept charge of my dog, as I did not
choose to take him with me, lest he might alarm the antelopes. My horse
was fresh and willing; and whether successful or not, I knew that I
could easily overtake the party by camping-time.
I struck directly towards the spot where I had seen the object. It
appeared to be only half a mile or so from the trail. It proved more
distant--a common illusion in the crystal atmosphere of these upland
regions.
A curiously-formed ridge, a _couteau des prairies_ on a small scale,
traversed the plain from east to west. A thicket of cactus covered part
of its summit. Towards this thicket I directed myself.
I dismounted at the bottom of the slope, and leading my horse silently
up among the cacti plants, tied him to one of their branches. I then
crept cautiously through the thorny leaves towards the point where I
fancied I had seen the game. To my joy, not one antelope, but a brace
of those beautiful animals were quietly grazing beyond; but, alas! too
far off for the range of my rifle. They were fully three hundred yards
distant, upon a smooth, grassy slope. There was not even a sage bush to
cover me, should I attempt to approach them. What was to be done?
I lay for several minutes, thinking over the different tricks known in
hunter-craft for taking the antelope. Should I imitate their call?
Should I hoist my handkerchief, and try to lure them up? I saw that
they were too shy; for, at short intervals, they threw up their graceful
heads and looked inquiringly around them. I remembered the red blanket
on my saddle. I could display this upon the cactus bushes; perhaps it
would attract them.
I had no alternative, and was turning to go back for the blanket, when,
all at once, my eye rested upon a clay-coloured line running across the
prairie beyond where the animals were feeding. It was a break in the
surface of the plain, a buffalo road, or the channel of an arroyo; in
either case the very cover I wanted, for the animals were not a hundred
yards from it, and were getting still nearer to it as they fed.
Creeping back out of the thicket, I ran along the side of the slope
towards a point where I had noticed that the ridge was depressed to the
prairie level. Here, to my surprise, I found myself on the banks of a
broad arroyo, whose water, clear and shallow, ran slowly over a bed of
sand and gypsum.
The banks were low, not over three feet above the surface of the water,
except where the ridge impinged upon the stream. Here there was a high
bluff; and, hurrying round its base, I entered the channel, and
commenced wading upward.
As I had anticipated, I soon came to a bend where the stream, after
running parallel to the ridge, swept round and canoned through it. At
this place I stopped, and looked cautiously over the bank. The
antelopes had approached within less than rifle range of the arroyo; but
they were yet far above my position. They were still quietly feeding
and unconscious of danger. I again bent down and waded on.
It was a difficult task proceeding in this way. The bed of the creek
was soft and yielding, and I was compelled to tread slowly and silently
lest I should alarm the game; but I was cheered in my exertions by the
prospect of fresh venison for my supper.
After a weary drag of several hundred yards, I came opposite to a small
clump of wormwood bushes growing out of the bank. "I may be high
enough," thought I; "these will serve for cover."
I raised my body gradually until I could see through the leaves. I was
in the right spot.
I brought my rifle to a level, sighted for the heart of the buck, and
fired. The animal leaped from the ground, and fell back lifeless.
I was about to rush forward and secure my prize, when I observed the
doe, instead of running off as I had expected, go up to her fallen
partner and press her tapering nose to his body. She was not more than
twenty yards from me; and I could plainly see that her look was one of
inquiry and bewilderment. All at once she seemed to comprehend the
fatal truth; and throwing back her head, commenced uttering the most
piteous cries, at the same time running in circles around the body.
I stood wavering between two minds. My first impulse had been to reload
and kill the doe; but her plaintive voice entered my heart, disarming me
of all hostile intentions. Had I dreamt of witnessing this painful
spectacle, I should not have left the trail. But the mischief was now
done. "I have worse than killed her," thought I; "it will be better to
despatch her at once."
Actuated by these principles of a common, but to her fatal, humanity, I
rested the butt of my rifle and reloaded. With a faltering hand I again
levelled the piece and fired.
My nerves were steady enough to do the work. When the smoke floated
aside, I could see the little creature bleeding upon the grass, her head
resting against the body of her murdered mate.
I shouldered my rifle, and was about to move forward, when to my
astonishment, I found that I was caught by the feet. I was held firmly,
as if my legs had been screwed in a vice!
I made an effort to extricate myself; another, more violent, and equally
unsuccessful; and, with a third, I lost my balance, and fell back upon
the water.
Half-suffocated, I regained my upright position, but only to find that I
was held as fast as ever.
Again I struggled to free my limbs. I could neither move them backward
nor forward, to the right nor to the left; and I became sensible that I
was gradually going down. Then the fearful truth flashed upon me: I was
sinking in a quicksand.
A feeling of horror came over me. I renewed my efforts with the energy
of desperation. I leant to one side, then to the other, almost
wrenching my knees from their sockets. My feet remained fast as ever.
I could not move them an inch.
The soft, clinging sand already overtopped my horseskin boots, wedging
them around my ankles, so that I was unable to draw them off; and I
could feel that I was still sinking, slowly but surely, as though some
subterranean monster were leisurely dragging me down! This very thought
caused me a fresh thrill of horror, and I called aloud for help. To
whom? There was no one within miles of me--no living thing. Yes! the
neigh of my horse answered me from the hill, mocking my despair.
I bent forward as well as my constrained position would permit, and,
with frenzied fingers, commenced tearing up the sand. I could barely
reach the surface; and the little hollow I was able to make filled up
almost as soon as it had been formed.
A thought occurred to me. My rifle might support me, placed
horizontally. I looked around for it. It was not to be seen. It had
sunk beneath the sand.
Could I throw my body flat, and prevent myself from sinking deeper? No.
The water was two feet in depth. I should drown at once.
This last last hope left me as soon as formed. I could think of no plan
to save myself. I could make no further effort. A strange stupor
seized upon me. My very thoughts became paralysed. I knew that I was
going mad. For a moment I was mad!
After an interval my senses returned. I made an effort to rouse my mind
from its paralysis, in order that I might meet death, which I now
believed to be certain, as a man should.
I stood erect. My eyes had sunk to the prairie level, and rested upon
the still bleeding victims of my cruelty. My heart smote me at the
sight. Was I suffering a retribution of God?
With humble and penitent thoughts I turned my face to heaven, almost
dreading that some sign of omnipotent anger would scowl upon me from
above. But no! The sun was shining as brightly as ever, and the blue
canopy of the world was without a cloud.
I gazed upward, and prayed with an earnestness known only to the hearts
of men in positions of peril like mine.
As I continued to look up, an object attracted my attention. Against
the sky I distinguished the outlines of a large bird. I knew it to be
the obscene bird of the plains, the buzzard vulture. Whence had it
come? Who knows? Far beyond the reach of human eye it had seen or
scented the slaughtered antelopes, and on broad, silent wing was now
descending to the feast of death.
Presently another, and another, and many others, mottled the blue field
of the heavens, curving and wheeling silently earthward. Then the
foremost swooped down upon the bank, and after gazing around for a
moment, flapped off towards its prey.
In a few seconds the prairie was black with filthy birds, which
clambered over the dead antelopes, and beat their wings against each
other, while they tore out the eyes of the quarry with their fetid
beaks.
And now came gaunt wolves, sneaking and hungry, stealing out of the
cactus thicket, and loping, coward-like, over the green swells of the
prairie. These, after a battle, drove away the vultures, and tore up
the prey, all the while growling and snapping vengefully at each other.
"Thank Heaven! I shall at least be saved from this!"
I was soon relieved from the sight. My eyes had sunk below the level of
the bank. I had looked my last on the fair green earth. I could now
see only the clayey walls that contained the river, and the water that
ran unheeding by me.
Once more I fixed my gaze upon the sky, and with prayerful heart
endeavoured to resign myself to my fate.
In spite of my efforts to be calm, the memories of earthly pleasures,
and friends, and home came over me, causing me at intervals to break
into wild paroxysms, and make fresh, though fruitless, struggles.
Again I was attracted by the neighing of my horse.
A thought entered my mind, filling me with fresh hopes. "Perhaps my
horse--"
I lost not a moment. I raised my voice to its highest pitch, and called
the animal by name. I knew that he would come at my call. I had tied
him but slightly. The cactus limb would snap off. I called again,
repeating words that were well known to him. I listened with a bounding
heart. For a moment there was silence. Then I heard the quick sounds
of his hoofs, as though the animal were rearing and struggling to free
himself. Then I could distinguish the stroke of his heels in a measured
and regular gallop.
Nearer came the sounds; nearer and clearer, until the gallant brute
appeared upon the bank above me. There he halted, and, flinging back
his tossed mane, uttered a shrill neigh. He was bewildered, and looked
to every side, snorting loudly.
I knew that, having once seen me, he would not stop until he had pressed
his nose against my cheek, for this was his usual custom. Holding out
my hands, I again uttered the magic words.
Now glancing downward, he perceived me, and stretching himself, sprang
out into the channel. The next moment I held him by the bridle.
There was no time to be lost. I was still going down; and my armpits
were fast nearing the surface of the quicksand.
I caught the lariat, and, passing it under the saddle-girths, fastened
it in a tight, firm knot. I then looped the trailing end, making it
secure around my body. I had left enough of the rope, between the
bit-ring and the girths, to enable me to check and guide the animal, in
case the drag upon my body should be too painful.
All this while the dumb brute seemed to comprehend what I was about. He
knew, too, the nature of the ground on which he stood, for during the
operation he kept lifting his feet alternately to prevent himself from
sinking.
My arrangements were at length completed; and with a feeling of terrible
anxiety I gave my horse the signal to move forward. Instead of going
off with a start, the intelligent animal stepped away slowly, as though
he understood my situation. The lariat tightened, I felt my body
moving, and the next moment experienced a wild delight, a feeling I
cannot describe, as I found myself dragged out of the sand!
I sprang to my feet with a shout of joy. I rushed up to my steed, and
throwing my arms around his neck, kissed him. He answered my embrace
with a low whimper, that told me I was understood.
I looked for my rifle. Fortunately, it had not sunk deeply, and I soon
found it. My boots were behind me, but I stayed not to look for them,
being smitten with a wholesome dread of the place where I had left them.
It was sundown before I reached camp, where I was met by the inquiries
of my wondering companions. "Did you come across the `goats'?"
"Where's your boots?" "Whether have you been hunting or fishing?"
I answered all these questions by relating my adventures; and that night
I was again the hero of the camp-fire.