CHAPTER XIX

How if he will not stand?

—Shakespeare.

The several movements, related in the close of the preceding chapter,

had passed in so short a space of time, that the old man, while he

neglected not to note the smallest incident, had no opportunity of

expressing his opinion concerning the stranger’s motives. After the

Pawnee had disappeared, however, he shook his head and muttered, while

he walked slowly to the angle of the thicket that the Indian had just

quitted—

“There are both scents and sounds in the air, though my miserable

senses are not good enough to hear the one, or to catch the taint of

the other.”

“There is nothing to be seen,” cried Middleton, who kept close at his

side. “My eyes and my ears are good, and yet I can assure you that I

neither hear nor see any thing.”

“Your eyes are good! and you are not deaf!” returned the other with a

slight air of contempt; “no, lad, no; they may be good to see across a

church, or to hear a town-bell, but afore you had passed a year in

these prairies you would find yourself taking a turkey for a buffaloe,

or conceiting, fifty times, that the roar of a buffaloe bull was the

thunder of the Lord! There is a deception of natur’ in these naked

plains, in which the air throws up the images like water, and then it

is hard to tell the prairies from a sea. But yonder is a sign that a

hunter never fails to know!”

The trapper pointed to a flight of vultures, that were sailing over the

plain at no great distance, and apparently in the direction in which

the Pawnee had riveted his eye. At first Middleton could not

distinguish the small dark objects, that were dotting the dusky clouds,

but as they came swiftly onward, first their forms, and then their

heavy waving wings, became distinctly visible.

“Listen,” said the trapper, when he had succeeded in making Middleton

see the moving column of birds. “Now you hear the buffaloes, or bisons,

as your knowing Doctor sees fit to call them, though buffaloes is their

name among all the hunters of these regions. And, I conclude, that a

hunter is a better judge of a beast and of its name,” he added, winking

to the young soldier, “than any man who has turned over the leaves of a

book, instead of travelling over the face of the ’arth, in order to

find out the natur’s of its inhabitants.”

“Of their habits, I will grant you,” cried the naturalist, who rarely

missed an opportunity to agitate any disputed point in his favourite

studies. “That is, provided always, deference is had to the proper use

of definitions, and that they are contemplated with scientific eyes.”

“Eyes of a mole! as if man’s eyes were not as good for names as the

eyes of any other creatur’! Who named the works of His hand? can you

tell me that, with your books and college wisdom? Was it not the first

man in the Garden, and is it not a plain consequence that his children

inherit his gifts?”

“That is certainly the Mosaic account of the event,” said the Doctor;

“though your reading is by far too literal!”

“My reading! nay, if you suppose, that I have wasted my time in

schools, you do such a wrong to my knowledge, as one mortal should

never lay to the door of another without sufficient reason. If I have

ever craved the art of reading, it has been that I might better know

the sayings of the book you name, for it is a book which speaks, in

every line, according to human feelings, and therein according to

reason.”

“And do you then believe,” said the Doctor a little provoked by the

dogmatism of his stubborn adversary, and perhaps, secretly, too

confident in his own more liberal, though scarcely as profitable,

attainments,—“do you then believe that all these beasts were literally

collected in a garden, to be enrolled in the nomenclature of the first

man?”

“Why not? I understand your meaning; for it is not needful to live in

towns to hear all the devilish devices, that the conceit of man can

invent to upset his own happiness. What does it prove, except indeed it

may be said to prove that the garden He made was not after the

miserable fashions of our times, thereby directly giving the lie to

what the world calls its civilising? No, no, the garden of the Lord was

the forest then, and is the forest now, where the fruits do grow, and

the birds do sing, according to his own wise ordering. Now, lady, you

may see the mystery of the vultures! There come the buffaloes

themselves, and a noble herd it is! I warrant me, that Pawnee has a

troop of his people in some of the hollows, nigh by; and as he has gone

scampering after them, you are about to see a glorious chase. It will

serve to keep the squatter and his brood under cover, and for ourselves

there is little reason to fear. A Pawnee is not apt to be a malicious

savage.”

Every eye was now drawn to the striking spectacle that succeeded. Even

the timid Inez hastened to the side of Middleton to gaze at the sight,

and Paul summoned Ellen from her culinary labours, to become a witness

of the lively scene.

Throughout the whole of those moving events, which it has been our duty

to record, the prairies had lain in the majesty of perfect solitude.

The heavens had been blackened with the passage of the migratory birds,

it is true, but the dogs of the party, and the ass of the doctor, were

the only quadrupeds that had enlivened the broad surface of the waste

beneath. There was now a sudden exhibition of animal life, which

changed the scene, as it were, by magic, to the very opposite extreme.

A few enormous bison bulls were first observed, scouring along the most

distant roll of the prairie, and then succeeded long files of single

beasts, which, in their turns, were followed by a dark mass of bodies,

until the dun-coloured herbage of the plain was entirely lost, in the

deeper hue of their shaggy coats. The herd, as the column spread and

thickened, was like the endless flocks of the smaller birds, whose

extended flanks are so often seen to heave up out of the abyss of the

heavens, until they appear as countless as the leaves in those forests,

over which they wing their endless flight. Clouds of dust shot up in

little columns from the centre of the mass, as some animal, more

furious than the rest, ploughed the plain with his horns, and, from

time to time, a deep hollow bellowing was borne along on the wind, as

if a thousand throats vented their plaints in a discordant murmuring.

A long and musing silence reigned in the party, as they gazed on this

spectacle of wild and peculiar grandeur. It was at length broken by the

trapper, who, having been long accustomed to similar sights, felt less

of its influence, or, rather, felt it in a less thrilling and absorbing

manner, than those to whom the scene was more novel.

“There go ten thousand oxen in one drove, without keeper or master,

except Him who made them, and gave them these open plains for their

pasture! Ay, it is here that man may see the proofs of his wantonness

and folly! Can the proudest governor in all the States go into his

fields, and slaughter a nobler bullock than is here offered to the

meanest hand; and when he has gotten his sirloin, or his steak, can he

eat it with as good a relish as he who has sweetened his food with

wholesome toil, and earned it according to the law of natur’, by

honestly mastering that which the Lord hath put before him?”

“If the prairie platter is smoking with a buffaloe’s hump, I answer,

No,” interrupted the luxurious bee-hunter.

“Ay, boy, you have tasted, and you feel the genuine reasoning of the

thing! But the herd is heading a little this-a-way, and it behoves us

to make ready for their visit. If we hide ourselves, altogether, the

horned brutes will break through the place and trample us beneath their

feet, like so many creeping worms; so we will just put the weak ones

apart, and take post, as becomes men and hunters, in the van.”

As there was but little time to make the necessary arrangements, the

whole party set about them in good earnest. Inez and Ellen were placed

in the edge of the thicket on the side farthest from the approaching

herd. Asinus was posted in the centre, in consideration of his nerves,

and then the old man, with his three male companions, divided

themselves in such a manner as they thought would enable them to turn

the head of the rushing column, should it chance to approach too nigh

their position. By the vacillating movements of some fifty or a hundred

bulls, that led the advance, it remained questionable, for many

moments, what course they intended to pursue. But a tremendous and

painful roar, which came from behind the cloud of dust that rose in the

centre of the herd, and which was horridly answered by the screams of

the carrion birds, that were greedily sailing directly above the flying

drove, appeared to give a new impulse to their flight, and at once to

remove every symptom of indecision. As if glad to seek the smallest

signs of the forest, the whole of the affrighted herd became steady in

its direction, rushing in a straight line toward the little cover of

bushes, which has already been so often named.

The appearance of danger was now, in reality, of a character to try the

stoutest nerves. The flanks of the dark, moving mass, were advanced in

such a manner as to make a concave line of the front, and every fierce

eye, that was glaring from the shaggy wilderness of hair in which the

entire heads of the males were enveloped, was riveted with mad anxiety

on the thicket. It seemed as if each beast strove to outstrip his

neighbour, in gaining this desired cover; and as thousands in the rear

pressed blindly on those in front, there was the appearance of an

imminent risk that the leaders of the herd would be precipitated on the

concealed party, in which case the destruction of every one of them was

certain. Each of our adventurers felt the danger of his situation in a

manner peculiar to his individual character and circumstances.

Middleton wavered. At times he felt inclined to rush through the

bushes, and, seizing Inez, attempt to fly. Then recollecting the

impossibility of outstripping the furious speed of an alarmed bison, he

felt for his arms, determined to make head against the countless drove.

The faculties of Dr. Battius were quickly wrought up to the very summit

of mental delusion. The dark forms of the herd lost their distinctness,

and then the naturalist began to fancy he beheld a wild collection of

all the creatures of the world, rushing upon him in a body, as if to

revenge the various injuries, which in the course of a life of

indefatigable labour in behalf of the natural sciences, he had

inflicted on their several genera. The paralysis it occasioned in his

system, was like the effect of the incubus. Equally unable to fly or to

advance, he stood riveted to the spot, until the infatuation became so

complete, that the worthy naturalist was beginning, by a desperate

effort of scientific resolution, even to class the different specimens.

On the other hand, Paul shouted, and called on Ellen to come and assist

him in shouting, but his voice was lost in the bellowings and trampling

of the herd. Furious, and yet strangely excited by the obstinacy of the

brutes and the wildness of the sight, and nearly maddened by sympathy

and a species of unconscious apprehension, in which the claims of

nature were singularly mingled with concern for his mistress, he nearly

split his throat in exhorting his aged friend to interfere.

“Come forth, old trapper,” he shouted, “with your prairie inventions!

or we shall be all smothered under a mountain of buffaloe humps!”

The old man, who had stood all this while leaning on his rifle, and

regarding the movements of the herd with a steady eye, now deemed it

time to strike his blow. Levelling his piece at the foremost bull, with

an agility that would have done credit to his youth, he fired. The

animal received the bullet on the matted hair between his horns, and

fell to his knees: but shaking his head he instantly arose, the very

shock seeming to increase his exertions. There was now no longer time

to hesitate. Throwing down his rifle, the trapper stretched forth his

arms, and advanced from the cover with naked hands, directly towards

the rushing column of the beasts.

The figure of a man, when sustained by the firmness and steadiness that

intellect can only impart, rarely fails of commanding respect from all

the inferior animals of the creation. The leading bulls recoiled, and

for a single instant there was a sudden stop to their speed, a dense

mass of bodies rolling up in front, until hundreds were seen

floundering and tumbling on the plain. Then came another of those

hollow bellowings from the rear, and set the herd again in motion. The

head of the column, however, divided. The immovable form of the

trapper, cutting it, as it were, into two gliding streams of life.

Middleton and Paul instantly profited by his example, and extended the

feeble barrier by a similar exhibition of their own persons.

For a few moments, the new impulse given to the animals in front,

served to protect the thicket. But, as the body of the herd pressed

more and more upon the open line of its defenders, and the dust

thickened, so as to obscure their persons, there was, at each instant,

a renewed danger of the beasts breaking through. It became necessary

for the trapper and his companions to become still more and more alert;

and they were gradually yielding before the headlong multitude, when a

furious bull darted by Middleton, so near as to brush his person, and,

at the next instant, swept through the thicket with the velocity of the

wind.

“Close, and die for the ground,” shouted the old man, “or a thousand of

the devils will be at his heels!”

All their efforts would have proved fruitless, however, against the

living torrent, had not Asinus, whose domains had just been so rudely

entered, lifted his voice, in the midst of the uproar. The most sturdy

and furious of the bulls trembled at the alarming and unknown cry, and

then each individual brute was seen madly pressing from that very

thicket, which, the moment before, he had endeavoured to reach, with

the eagerness with which the murderer seeks the sanctuary.

As the stream divided, the place became clear; the two dark columns

moving obliquely from the copse, to unite again at the distance of a

mile, on its opposite side. The instant the old man saw the sudden

effect which the voice of Asinus had produced, he coolly commenced

reloading his rifle, indulging at the same time in a heartfelt fit of

his silent and peculiar merriment.

“There they go, like dogs with so many half-filled shot-pouches

dangling at their tails, and no fear of their breaking their order; for

what the brutes in the rear didn’t hear with their own ears, they’ll

conceit they did: besides, if they change their minds, it may be no

hard matter to get the Jack to sing the rest of his tune!”

“The ass has spoken, but Balaam is silent!” cried the bee-hunter,

catching his breath after a repeated burst of noisy mirth, that might

possibly have added to the panic of the buffaloes by its vociferation.

“The man is as completely dumb-founded, as if a swarm of young bees had

settled on the end of his tongue, and he not willing to speak, for fear

of their answer.”

“How now, friend,” continued the trapper, addressing the still

motionless and entranced naturalist; “how now, friend; are you, who

make your livelihood by booking the names and natur’s of the beasts of

the fields and the fowls of the air, frightened at a herd of scampering

buffaloes? Though, perhaps, you are ready to dispute my right to call

them by a word, that is in the mouth of every hunter and trader on the

frontier!”

The old man was however mistaken, in supposing he could excite the

benumbed faculties of the Doctor, by provoking a discussion. From that

time, henceforth, he was never known, except on one occasion, to utter

a word that indicated either the species, or the genus, of the animal.

He obstinately refused the nutritious food of the whole ox family, and

even to the present hour, now that he is established in all the

scientific dignity and security of a savant in one of the maritime

towns, he turns his back with a shudder on those delicious and

unrivalled viands, that are so often seen at the suppers of the craft,

and which are unequalled by any thing, that is served under the same

name, at the boasted chop-houses of London, or at the most renowned of

the Parisian restaurants. In short, the distaste of the worthy

naturalist for beef was not unlike that which the shepherd sometimes

produces, by first muzzling and fettering his delinquent dog, and then

leaving him as a stepping stone for the whole flock to use in its

transit over a wall, or through the opening of a sheep-fold; a process

which is said to produce in the culprit a species of surfeit, on the

subject of mutton, for ever after. By the time Paul and the trapper saw

fit to terminate the fresh bursts of merriment, which the continued

abstraction of their learned companion did not fail to excite, he

commenced breathing again, as if the suspended action of his lungs had

been renewed by the application of a pair of artificial bellows, and

was heard to make use of the ever afterwards proscribed term, on that

solitary occasion, to which we have just alluded.

“Boves Americani horridi!” exclaimed the Doctor, laying great stress on

the latter word; after which he continued mute, like one who pondered

on strange and unaccountable events.

“Ay, horrid eyes enough, I will willingly allow,” returned the trapper;

“and altogether the creatur’ has a frightful look, to one unused to the

sights and bustle of a natural life; but then the courage of the beast

is in no way equal to its countenance. Lord, man, if you should once

get fairly beset by a brood of grizzly bears, as happened to Hector and

I, at the great falls of the Miss—Ah, here comes the tail of the herd,

and yonder goes a pack of hungry wolves, ready to pick up the sick, or

such as get a disjointed neck by a tumble. Ha! there are mounted men on

their trail, or I’m no sinner! here, lad; you may see them here-away,

just where the dust is scattering afore the wind. They are hovering

around a wounded buffaloe, making an end of the surly devil with their

arrows!”

Middleton and Paul soon caught a glimpse of the dark group, that the

quick eye of the old man had so readily detected. Some fifteen or

twenty horsemen were, in truth, to be seen riding, in quick circuits,

about a noble bull, which stood at bay, too grievously hurt to fly, and

yet seeming to disdain to fall, notwithstanding his hardy body had

already been the target for a hundred arrows. A thrust from the lance

of a powerful Indian, however, completed his conquest, and the brute

gave up his obstinate hold of life with a roar, that passed bellowing

over the place where our adventurers stood, and, reaching the ears of

the affrighted herd, added a new impulse to their flight.

“How well the Pawnee knew the philosophy of a buffaloe hunt!” said the

old man, after he had stood regarding the animated scene for a few

moments, with evident satisfaction. “You saw how he went off like the

wind before the drove. It was in order that he might not taint the air,

and that he might turn the flank, and join—Ha! how is this! yonder

Red-skins are no Pawnees! The feathers in their heads are from the

wings and tails of owls.—Ah! as I am but a miserable, half-sighted,

trapper, it is a band of the accursed Siouxes! To cover, lads, to

cover. A single cast of an eye this-a-way, would strip us of every rag

of clothes, as surely as the lightning scorches the bush, and it might

be that our very lives would be far from safe.”

Middleton had already turned from the spectacle, to seek that which

pleased him better; the sight of his young and beautiful bride. Paul

seized the Doctor by the arm; and, as the trapper followed with the

smallest possible delay, the whole party was quickly collected within

the cover of the thicket. After a few short explanations concerning the

character of this new danger, the old man, on whom the whole duty of

directing their movements was devolved, in deference to his great

experience, continued his discourse as follows—

“This is a region, as you must all know, where a strong arm is far

better than the right, and where the white law is as little known as

needed. Therefore does every thing, now, depend on judgment and power.

If,” he continued, laying his finger on his cheek, like one who

considered deeply all sides of the embarrassing situation in which he

found himself,—“if an invention could be framed, which would set these

Siouxes and the brood of the squatter by the ears, then might we come

in, like the buzzards after a fight atween the beasts, and pick up the

gleanings of the ground—there are Pawnees nigh us, too! It is a certain

matter, for yonder lad is not so far from his village without an

errand. Here are therefore four parties within sound of a cannon, not

one of whom can trust the other. All which makes movement a little

difficult, in a district where covers are far from plenty. But we are

three well-armed, and I think I may see three stout-hearted men—”

“Four,” interrupted Paul.

“Anan,” said the old man, looking up simply at his companion.

“Four,” repeated the bee-hunter, pointing to the naturalist.

“Every army has its hangers-on and idlers,” rejoined the blunt

border-man. “Friend, it will be necessary to slaughter this ass.”

“To slay Asinus! such a deed would be an act of supererogatory

cruelty.”

“I know nothing of your words, which hide their meaning in sound; but

that is cruel which sacrifices a Christian to a brute. This is what I

call the reason of mercy. It would be just as safe to blow a trumpet,

as to let the animal raise his voice again, inasmuch as it would prove

a manifest challenge to the Siouxes.”

“I will answer for the discretion of Asinus, who seldom speaks without

a reason.”

“They say a man can be known by the company he keeps,” retorted the old

man, “and why not a brute? I once made a forced march, and went through

a great deal of jeopardy, with a companion who never opened his mouth

but to sing; and trouble enough and great concern of mind did the

fellow give me. It was in that very business with your grand’ther,

captain. But then he had a human throat, and well did he know how to

use it, on occasion, though he didn’t always stop to regard the time

and seasons fit for such outcries. Ah’s me! if I was now, as I was

then, it wouldn’t be a band of thieving Siouxes that should easily

drive me from such a lodgment as this! But what signifies boasting,

when sight and strength are both failing. The warrior, that the

Delawares once saw fit to call after the Hawk, for the goodness of his

eyes, would now be better termed the Mole! In my judgment, therefore,

it will be well to slay the brute.”

“There’s argument and good logic in it,” said Paul; “music is music,

and it’s always noisy, whether it comes from a fiddle or a jackass.

Therefore I agree with the old man, and say, Kill the beast.”

“Friends,” said the naturalist, looking with a sorrowful eye from one

to another of his bloodily disposed companions, “slay not Asinus; he is

a specimen of his kind, of whom much good and little evil can be said.

Hardy and docile for his genus; abstemious and patient, even for his

humble species. We have journeyed much together, and his death would

grieve me. How would it trouble thy spirit, venerable venator, to

separate, in such an untimely manner, from your faithful hound?”

“The animal shall not die,” said the old man, suddenly clearing his

throat, in a manner that proved he felt the force of the appeal; “but

his voice must be smothered. Bind his jaws with the halter, and then I

think we may trust the rest to Providence.”

With this double security for the discretion of Asinus, for Paul

instantly bound the muzzle of the ass in the manner required, the

trapper seemed content. After which he proceeded to the margin of the

thicket to reconnoitre.

The uproar, which attended the passage of the herd, was now gone, or

rather it was heard rolling along the prairie, at the distance of a

mile. The clouds of dust were already blown away by the wind, and a

clear range was left to the eye, in that place where ten minutes before

there existed a scene of so much wildness and confusion.

The Siouxes had completed their conquest, and, apparently satisfied

with this addition to the numerous previous captures they had made,

they now seemed content to let the remainder of the herd escape. A

dozen remained around the carcass, over which a few buzzards were

balancing themselves with steady wings and greedy eyes, while the rest

were riding about, in quest of such further booty as might come in

their way, on the trail of so vast a drove. The trapper measured the

proportions, and scanned the equipments of such individuals as drew

nearer to the side of the thicket, with careful eyes. At length he

pointed out one among them, to Middleton, as Weucha.

“Now, know we not only who they are, but their errand,” the old man

continued, deliberately shaking his head. “They have lost the trail of

the squatter, and are on its hunt. These buffaloes have crossed their

path, and in chasing the animals, bad luck has led them in open sight

of the hill on which the brood of Ishmael have harboured. Do you see

yon birds watching for the offals of the beast they have killed?

Therein is a moral, which teaches the manner of a prairie life. A band

of Pawnees are outlying for these very Siouxes, as you see the buzzards

looking down for their food, and it behoves us, as Christian men who

have so much at stake, to look down upon them both. Ha! what brings

yonder two skirting reptiles to a stand? As you live, they have found

the place where the miserable son of the squatter met his death!”

The old man was not mistaken. Weucha, and a savage who accompanied him,

had reached that spot, which has already been mentioned as furnishing

the frightful evidences of violence and bloodshed. There they sat on

their horses, examining the well-known signs, with the intelligence

that distinguishes the habits of Indians. Their scrutiny was long, and

apparently not without distrust. At length they raised a cry, that was

scarcely less piteous and startling than that which the hounds had

before made over the same fatal signs, and which did not fail to draw

the whole band immediately around them, as the fell bark of the jackal

is said to gather his comrades to the chase.

The Prairie · 第 19 / 34 章