_A mission of peace--Unexpected joys--Dick and Crusoe set off for the
land of the Redskins, and meet with adventures by the way as a matter
of course--Night in the wild woods_.
One day the inhabitants of Mustang Valley were thrown into
considerable excitement by the arrival of an officer of the United
States army and a small escort of cavalry. They went direct to the
blockhouse, which, since Major Hope's departure, had become the
residence of Joe Blunt--that worthy having, by general consent, been
deemed the fittest man in the settlement to fill the major's place.
Soon it began to be noised abroad that the strangers had been sent by
Government to endeavour to bring about, if possible, a more friendly
state of feeling between the Whites and the Indians by means of
presents, and promises, and fair speeches.
The party remained all night in the block-house, and ere long it was
reported that Joe Blunt had been requested, and had consented, to be
the leader and chief of a party of three men who should visit the
neighbouring tribes of Indians to the west and north of the valley as
Government agents. Joe's knowledge of two or three different Indian
dialects, and his well-known sagacity, rendered him a most fitting
messenger on such an errand. It was also whispered that Joe was to
have the choosing of his comrades in this mission, and many were the
opinions expressed and guesses made as to who would be chosen.
That same evening Dick Varley was sitting in his mother's kitchen
cleaning his rifle. His mother was preparing supper, and talking
quietly about the obstinacy of a particular hen that had taken to
laying her eggs in places where they could not be found. Fan was
coiled up in a corner sound asleep, and Crusoe was sitting at one side
of the fire looking on at things in general.
"I wonder," remarked Mrs. Varley, as she spread the table with a pure
white napkin--"I wonder what the sodgers are doin' wi' Joe Blunt."
As often happens when an individual is mentioned, the worthy referred
to opened the door at that moment and stepped into the room.
"Good e'en t'ye, dame," said the stout hunter, doffing his cap, and
resting his rifle in a corner, while Dick rose and placed a chair for
him.
"The same to you, Master Blunt," answered the widow; "you've jist
comed in good time for a cut o' venison."
"Thanks, mistress; I s'pose we're beholden to the silver rifle for
that."
"To the hand that aimed it, rather," suggested the widow.
"Nay, then, say raither to the dog that turned it," said Dick Varley.
"But for Crusoe, that buck would ha' bin couched in the woods this
night."
"Oh! if it comes to that," retorted Joe, "I'd lay it to the door o'
Fan, for if she'd niver bin born nother would Crusoe. But it's good
an' tender meat, whativer ways ye got it. Howsiver, I've other things
to talk about jist now. Them sodgers that are eatin' buffalo tongues
up at the block-house as if they'd niver ate meat before, and didn't
hope to eat again for a twelvemonth--"
"Ay, what o' them?" interrupted Mrs. Varley; "I've bin wonderin' what
was their errand."
"Of coorse ye wos, Dame Varley, and I've comed here a purpis to tell
ye. They want me to go to the Redskins to make peace between them
and us; and they've brought a lot o' goods to make them presents
withal--beads, an' knives, an' lookin'-glasses, an' vermilion paint,
an' sich like, jist as much as'll be a light load for one horse--for,
ye see, nothin' can be done wi' the Redskins without gifts."
"'Tis a blessed mission," said the widow; "I wish it may succeed. D'ye
think ye'll go?"
"Go? ay, that will I."
"I only wish they'd made the offer to me," said Dick with a sigh.
"An' so they do make the offer, lad. They've gin me leave to choose
the two men I'm to take with me, and I've corned straight to ask
_you_. Ay or no, for we must up an' away by break o' day to-morrow."
Mrs. Varley started. "So soon?" she said, with a look of anxiety.
"Ay; the Pawnees are at the Yellow Creek jist at this time, but I've
heerd they're 'bout to break up camp an' away west; so we'll need to
use haste."
"May I go, mother?" asked Dick, with a look of anxiety.
There was evidently a conflict in the widow's breast, but it quickly
ceased.
"Yes, my boy," she said in her own low, quiet voice; "and God go with
ye. I knew the time must come soon, an' I thank him that your first
visit to the Redskins will be on an errand o' peace. 'Blessed are the
peace-makers: for they shall be called the children of God.'"
Dick grasped his mother's hand and pressed it to his cheek in silence.
At the same moment Crusoe, seeing that the deeper feelings of his
master were touched, and deeming it his duty to sympathize, rose up
and thrust his nose against him.
"Ah, pup," cried the young man hastily, "you must go too.--Of course
Crusoe goes, Joe Blunt?"
"Hum! I don't know that. There's no dependin' on a dog to keep his
tongue quiet in times o' danger."
"Believe me," exclaimed Dick, flashing with enthusiasm, "Crusoe's more
trustworthy than I am myself. If ye can trust the master, ye're safe
to trust the pup."
"Well, lad, ye may be right. We'll take him."
"Thanks, Joe. And who else goes with us?"
"I've' bin castin' that in my mind for some time, an' I've fixed
to take Henri. He's not the safest man in the valley, but he's the
truest, that's a fact. And now, youngster, get yer horse an' rifle
ready, and come to the block-house at daybreak to-morrow.--Good luck
to ye, mistress, till we meet agin."
Joe Blunt rose, and taking up his rifle--without which he scarcely
ever moved a foot from his own door--left the cottage with rapid
strides.
"My son," said Mrs. Varley, kissing Dick's cheek as he resumed
his seat, "put this in the little pocket I made for it in your
hunting-shirt."
She handed him a small pocket Bible.
"Dear mother," he said, as he placed the book carefully within the
breast of his coat, "the Redskin that takes that from me must take my
scalp first. But don't fear for me. You've often said the Lord would
protect me. So he will, mother, for sure it's an errand o' peace."
"Ay that's it, that's it," murmured the widow in a half-soliloquy.
Dick Varley spent that night in converse with his mother, and next
morning at daybreak he was at the place of meeting, mounted on his
sturdy little horse, with the "silver rifle" on his shoulder and
Crusoe by his side.
"That's right, lad, that's right. Nothin' like keepin' yer time," said
Joe, as he led out a pack-horse from the gate of the block-house,
while his own charger was held ready saddled by a man named Daniel
Brand, who had been appointed to the charge of the block-house in his
absence.
"Where's Henri?--oh, here he comes!" exclaimed Dick, as the hunter
referred to came thundering up the slope at a charge, on a horse
that resembled its rider in size and not a little in clumsiness of
appearance.
"Ah! mes boy. Him is a goot one to go," cried
Henri, remarking Dick's smile as he pulled up. "No hoss on de plain
can beat dis one, surement."
"Now then, Henri, lend a hand to fix this pack; we've no time to
palaver."
By this time they were joined by several of the soldiers and a few
hunters who had come to see them start.
"Remember, Joe," said one, "if you don't come back in three months
we'll all come out in a band to seek you."
"If we don't come back in less than that time, what's left o' us won't
be worth seekin' for," said Joe, tightening the girth of his saddle.
"Put a bit in yer own mouth, Henri," cried another, as the Canadian
arranged his steed's bridle; "yell need it more than yer horse when ye
git 'mong the red reptiles."
"Vraiment, if mon mout' needs one bit, yours will need one padlock."
"Now, lads, mount!" cried Joe Blunt as he vaulted into the saddle.
Dick Varley sprang lightly on his horse, and Henri made a rush at his
steed and hurled his huge frame across its back with a violence that
ought to have brought it to the ground; but the tall, raw-boned,
broad-chested roan was accustomed to the eccentricities of its master,
and stood the shock bravely. Being appointed to lead the pack-horse,
Henri seized its halter. Then the three cavaliers shook their reins,
and, waving their hands to their comrades, they sprang into the woods
at full gallop, and laid their course for the "far west."
For some time they galloped side by side in silence, each occupied
with his own thoughts, Crusoe keeping close beside his master's horse.
The two elder hunters evidently ruminated on the object of their
mission and the prospects of success, for their countenances were
grave and their eyes cast on the ground. Dick Varley, too, thought
upon the Red-men, but his musings were deeply tinged with the bright
hues of a _first_ adventure. The mountains, the plains, the Indians,
the bears, the buffaloes, and a thousand other objects, danced wildly
before his mind's eye, and his blood careered through his veins and
flushed his forehead as he thought of what he should see and do, and
felt the elastic vigour of youth respond in sympathy to the light
spring of his active little steed. He was a lover of nature, too, and
his flashing eyes glanced observantly from side to side as they swept
along--sometimes through glades of forest trees, sometimes through
belts of more open ground and shrubbery; anon by the margin of a
stream or along the shores of a little lake, and often over short
stretches of flowering prairie-land--while the firm, elastic turf sent
up a muffled sound from the tramp of their mettlesome chargers. It was
a scene of wild, luxuriant beauty, that might almost (one could fancy)
have drawn involuntary homage to its bountiful Creator from the lips
even of an infidel.
After a time Joe Blunt reined up, and they proceeded at an easy
ambling pace. Joe and his friend Henri were so used to these beautiful
scenes that they had long ceased to be enthusiastically affected by
them, though they never ceased to delight in them.
"I hope," said Joe, "that them sodgers'll go their ways soon. I've no
notion o' them chaps when they're left at a place wi' nothin' to do
but whittle sticks."
"Why, Joe!" exclaimed Dick Varley in a tone of surprise, "I thought
you were admirin' the beautiful face o' nature all this time, and
ye're only thinkin' about the sodgers. Now, that's strange!"
"Not so strange after all, lad," answered Joe. "When a man's used to a
thing, he gits to admire an' enjoy it without speakin' much about it.
But it _is_ true, boy, that mankind gits in coorse o' time to think
little o' the blissin's he's used to."
"Oui, c'est _vrai_!" murmured Henri emphatically.
"Well, Joe Blunt, it may be so, but I'm thankful _I'm_ not used
to this sort o' thing yet," exclaimed Varley. "Let's have another
gallop--so ho! come along, Crusoe!" shouted the youth as he shook his
reins and flew over a long stretch of prairie on which at that moment
they entered.
Joe smiled as he followed his enthusiastic companion, but after a
short run he pulled up.
"Hold on, youngster," he cried; "ye must larn to do as ye're bid, lad.
It's trouble enough to be among wild Injuns and wild buffaloes, as I
hope soon to be, without havin' wild comrades to look after."
Dick laughed, and reined in his panting horse. "I'll be as obedient as
Crusoe," he said, "and no one can beat him."
"Besides," continued Joe, "the horses won't travel far if we begin by
runnin' all the wind out o' them."
"Wah!" exclaimed Henri, as the led horse became restive; "I think we
must give to him de pack-hoss for to lead, eh?"
"Not a bad notion, Henri. We'll make that the penalty of runnin' off
again; so look out, Master Dick."
"I'm down," replied Dick, with a modest air, "obedient as a baby, and
won't run off again--till--the next time. By the way, Joe, how many
days' provisions did ye bring?"
"Two. That's 'nough to carry us to the Great Prairie, which is
three weeks distant from this. Our own good rifles must make up the
difference, and keep us when we get there."
"And s'pose we neither find deer nor buffalo," suggested Dick.
"I s'pose we'll have to starve."
"Dat is cumfer'able to tink upon," remarked Henri.
"More comfortable to think o' than to undergo," said Dick; "but I
s'pose there's little chance o' that."
"Well, not much," replied Joe Blunt, patting his horse's neck, "but
d'ye see, lad, ye niver can count for sartin on anythin'. The deer and
buffalo ought to be thick in them plains at this time--and when the
buffalo _are_ thick they covers the plains till ye can hardly see the
end o' them; but, ye see, sometimes the rascally Redskins takes it
into their heads to burn the prairies, and sometimes ye find the place
that should ha' bin black wi' buffalo, black as a coal wi' fire for
miles an' miles on end. At other times the Redskins go huntin' in
'ticlur places, and sweeps them clean o' every hoof that don't git
away. Sometimes, too, the animals seems to take a scunner at a place,
and keeps out o' the way. But one way or another men gin' rally manage
to scramble through."
"Look yonder, Joe," exclaimed Dick, pointing to the summit of a
distant ridge, where a small black object was seen moving against the
sky, "that's a deer, ain't it?"
Joe shaded his eyes with his hand, and gazed earnestly at the object
in question. "Ye're right, boy; and by good luck we've got the wind
of him. Cut in an' take your chance now. There's a long strip o' wood
as'll let ye git close to him."
Before the sentence was well finished Dick and Crusoe were off at full
gallop. For a few hundred yards they coursed along the bottom of a
hollow; then turning to the right they entered the strip of wood, and
in a few minutes gained the edge of it. Here Dick dismounted.
"You can't help me here, Crusoe. Stay where you are, pup, and hold my
horse."
Crusoe seized the end of the line, which was fastened to the horse's
nose, in his mouth, and lay down on a hillock of moss, submissively
placing his chin on his forepaws, and watching his master as he
stepped noiselessly through the wood. In a few minutes Dick emerged
from among the trees, and creeping from bush to bush, succeeded in
getting to within six hundred yards of the deer, which was a beautiful
little antelope. Beyond the bush behind which he now crouched all was
bare open ground, without a shrub or a hillock large enough to conceal
the hunter. There was a slight undulation in the ground, however,
which enabled him to advance about fifty yards farther, by means of
lying down quite flat and working himself forward like a serpent.
Farther than this he could not move without being seen by the
antelope, which browsed on the ridge before him in fancied security.
The distance was too great even for a long shot; but Dick knew of
a weak point in this little creature's nature which enabled him to
accomplish his purpose--a weak point which it shares in common with
animals of a higher order--namely, curiosity.
The little antelope of the North American prairies is intensely
curious about everything that it does not quite understand, and will
not rest satisfied until it has endeavoured to clear up the mystery.
Availing himself of this propensity, Dick did what both Indians and
hunters are accustomed to do on these occasions--he put a piece of
rag on the end of his ramrod, and keeping his person concealed and
perfectly still, waved this miniature flag in the air. The antelope
noticed it at once, and, pricking up its ears, began to advance,
timidly and slowly, step by step, to see what remarkable phenomenon
it could be. In a few seconds the flag was lowered, a sharp crack
followed, and the antelope fell dead upon the plain.
"Ha, boy! that's a good supper, anyhow," cried Joe, as he galloped up
and dismounted.
"Goot! dat is better nor dried meat," added Henri. "Give him to me; I
will put him on my hoss, vich is strongar dan yourn. But ver is your
hoss?"
"He'll be here in a minute," replied Dick, putting his fingers to his
mouth and giving forth a shrill whistle.
The instant Crusoe heard the sound he made a savage and apparently
uncalled-for dash at the horse's heels. This wild act, so contrary to
the dog's gentle nature, was a mere piece of acting. He knew that the
horse would not advance without getting a fright, so he gave him one
in this way, which sent him off at a gallop. Crusoe followed close at
his heels, so as to bring the line alongside of the nag's body, and
thereby prevent its getting entangled; but despite his best efforts
the horse got on one side of a tree and he on the other, so he wisely
let go his hold of the line, and waited till more open ground enabled
him to catch it again. Then he hung heavily back, gradually checked
the horse's speed, and finally trotted him up to his master's side.
"'Tis a cliver cur, good sooth," exclaimed Joe Blunt in surprise.
"Ah, Joe! you haven't seen much of Crusoe yet. He's as good as a man
any day. I've done little else but train him for two years gone by,
and he can do most anything but shoot--he can't handle the rifle
nohow."
"Ha! then, I tink perhaps hims could if he wos try," said Henri,
plunging on to his horse with a laugh, and arranging the carcass of
the antelope across the pommel of his saddle.
Thus they hunted and galloped, and trotted and ambled on through wood
and plain all day, until the sun began to descend below the tree-tops
of the bluffs on the west. Then Joe Blunt looked about him for a place
on which to camp, and finally fixed on a spot under the shadow of a
noble birch by the margin of a little stream. The carpet of grass on
its banks was soft like green velvet, and the rippling waters of the
brook were clear as crystal--very different from the muddy Missouri
into which it flowed.
While Dick Varley felled and cut up firewood, Henri unpacked the
horses and turned them loose to graze, and Joe kindled the fire and
prepared venison steaks and hot tea for supper.
In excursions of this kind it is customary to "hobble" the
horses--that is, to tie their fore-legs together, so that they cannot
run either fast or far, but are free enough to amble about with a
clumsy sort of hop in search of food. This is deemed a sufficient
check on their tendency to roam, although some of the knowing horses
sometimes learn to hop so fast with their hobbles as to give their
owners much trouble to recapture them. But when out in the prairies
where Indians are known or supposed to be in the neighbourhood, the
horses are picketed by means of a pin or stake attached to the ends
of their long lariats, as well as hobbled; for Indians deem it no
disgrace to steal or tell lies, though they think it disgraceful to
be found out in doing either. And so expert are these dark-skinned
natives of the western prairies, that they will creep into the midst
of an enemy's camp, cut the lariats and hobbles of several horses,
spring suddenly on their backs, and gallop away.
They not only steal from white men, but tribes that are at enmity
steal from each other, and the boldness with which they do this is
most remarkable. When Indians are travelling in a country where
enemies are prowling, they guard their camps at night with jealous
care. The horses in particular are both hobbled and picketed, and
sentries are posted all round the camp. Yet, in spite of these
precautions, hostile Indians manage to elude the sentries and creep
into the camp. When a thief thus succeeds in effecting an entrance,
his chief danger is past. He rises boldly to his feet, and wrapping
his blanket or buffalo robe round him, he walks up and down as if he
were a member of the tribe. At the same time he dexterously cuts the
lariats of such horses as he observes are not hobbled. He dare not
stoop to cut the hobbles, as the action would be observed, and
suspicion would be instantly aroused. He then leaps on the best horse
he can find, and uttering a terrific war-whoop darts away into the
plains, driving the loosened horses before him.
No such dark thieves were supposed to be near the camp under the
birch-tree, however, so Joe, and Dick, and Henri ate their supper in
comfort, and let their horses browse at will on the rich pasturage.
A bright ruddy fire was soon kindled, which created, as it were, a
little ball of light in the midst of surrounding darkness for the
special use of our hardy hunters. Within this magic circle all was
warm, comfortable, and cheery; outside all was dark, and cold, and
dreary by contrast.
When the substantial part of supper was disposed of, tea and pipes
were introduced, and conversation began to flow. Then the three
saddles were placed in a row; each hunter wrapped himself in his
blanket, and pillowing his head on his saddle, stretched his feet
towards the fire and went to sleep, with his loaded rifle by his side
and his hunting-knife handy in his belt. Crusoe mounted guard by
stretching himself out _couchant_ at Dick Varley's side. The faithful
dog slept lightly, and never moved all night; but had any one observed
him closely he would have seen that every fitful flame that burst from
the sinking fire, every unusual puff of wind, and every motion of the
horses that fed or rested hard by, had the effect of revealing a speck
of glittering white in Crusoe's watchful eye.