A GREAT DISASTER.
The hunters had better success on their second day's search for
buffalo; for they not only found the animals, but they killed three.
The first game of the day was brought down by Younkins, who was the
"guide, philosopher, and friend" of the party, and Oscar, the youngest
of them all, slew the second. The honor of bringing down the third and
last was Uncle Aleck's. When he had killed his game, he was anxious to
get home as soon as possible, somewhat to the amusement of the others,
who rallied him on his selfishness. They hinted that he would not be
so ready to go home, if he yet had his buffalo to kill, as had some of
the others.
"I'm worried about the crop, to tell the truth," said Mr. Howell. "If
that herd of buffalo swept down on our claim, there's precious little
corn left there now; and it seemed to me that they went in that
direction."
"If that's the case," said the easy-going Younkins, "what's the use of
going home? If the corn is gone, you can't get it back by looking at
the place where it was."
They laughed at this cool and practical way of looking at things, and
Uncle Aleck was half ashamed to admit he wanted to be rid of his
present suspense, and could not be satisfied until he had settled in
his mind all that he dreaded and feared.
It was a long and wearisome tramp homeward. But they had been more
successful than they had hoped or expected, and the way did not
seem so long as it would if they had been empty-handed. The choicest
parts of their game had been carefully cooled by hanging in the dry
Kansas wind, over night, and were now loaded upon the pack-animals.
There was enough and more than enough for each of the three families
represented in the party; and they had enjoyed many a savory
repast of buffalo-meat cooked hunter-fashion before an open camp-fire,
while their expedition lasted. So they hailed with pleasure the
crooked line of bluffs that marks the big bend of the Republican
Fork near which the Whittier cabin was built. Here and there they
had crossed the trail, broad and well pounded, of the great herd that
had been stampeded on the first day of their hunt. But for the most
part the track of the animal multitude bore off more to the south, and
the hunters soon forgot their apprehensions of danger to the
corn-fields left unfenced on their claim.
It was sunset when the weary pilgrims reached the bluff that
overlooked the Younkins cabin where the Dixon party temporarily
dwelt. The red light of the sun deluged with splendor the waving grass
of the prairie below them, and jack-rabbits scurrying hither and yon
were the only signs of life in the peaceful picture. Tired as he was,
Oscar could not resist taking a shot at one of the flying creatures;
but before he could raise his gun to his shoulder, the long-legged,
long-eared rabbit was out of range. Running briskly for a little
distance, it squatted in the tall grass. Piqued at this, Oscar
stealthily followed on the creature's trail. "It will make a nice
change from so much buffalo-meat," said the lad to himself, "and if I
get him into the corn-field, he can't hide so easily."
He saw Jack's long ears waving against the sky on the next rise of
ground, as he muttered this to himself, and he pressed forward,
resolved on one parting shot. He mounted the roll of the prairie, and
before him lay the corn-field. It was what had been a corn-field!
Where had stood, on the morning of their departure, a glorious field
of gold and green, the blades waving in the breeze like banners,
was now a mass of ruin. The tumultuous drove had plunged down over
the ridge above the field, and had fled, in one broad swath of
destruction, straight over every foot of the field, their trail
leaving a brown and torn surface on the earth, wide on both sides
of the plantation. Scarcely a trace of greenness was left where once
the corn-field had been. Here and there, ears of grain, broken and
trampled into the torn earth, hinted what had been; but for the most
part hillock, stalk, corn-blade, vine, and melon were all crushed
into an indistinguishable confusion, muddy and wrecked.
Oscar felt a shudder pass down his back, and his knees well-nigh gave
way under him as he caught a glimpse of the ruin that had been
wrought. Tears were in his eyes, and, unable to raise a shout, he
turned and wildly waved his hands to the party, who had just then
reached the door of the cabin. His Uncle Aleck had been watching the
lad, and as he saw him turn he exclaimed, "Oscar has found the buffalo
trail over the corn-field!"
The whole party moved quickly in the direction of the plantation. When
they reached the rise of ground overlooking the field, Oscar, still
unable to speak, turned and looked at his father with a face of grief.
Uncle Aleck, gazing on the wreck and ruin, said only, "A whole
summer's work gone!"
"A dearly bought buffalo-hunt!" remarked Younkins.
"That's so, neighbor," added Mr. Bryant, with the grimmest sort of a
smile; and then the men fell to talking calmly of the wonderful amount
of mischief that a drove of buffalo could do in a few minutes, even
seconds, of time. Evidently, the animals had not stopped to snatch a
bite by the way. They had not tarried an instant in their wild course.
Down the slope of the fields they had hurried in a mad rush, plunged
into the woody creek below, and, leaving the underbrush and vines
broken and flattened as if a tornado had passed through the land, had
thundered away across the flat floor of the bottom-land on the further
side of the creek. A broad brown track behind them showed that they
had then fled into the dim distance of the lands of the Chapman's
Creek region.
There was nothing to be done, and not much to be said. So, parting
with their kindly and sympathizing neighbors, the party went
sorrowfully home.
"Well," said Uncle Aleck, as soon as they were alone together, "I am
awful sorry that we have lost the corn; but I am not so sure that it
is so very great a loss, after all."
The boys looked at him with amazement, and Sandy said,--
"Why, daddy, it's the loss of a whole summer; isn't it? What are we
going to live on this whole winter that's coming, now that we have no
corn to sell?"
"There's no market for free-State corn in these parts, Sandy," replied
his father; and, seeing the look of inquiry on the lad's face, he
explained: "Mr. Fuller tells us that the officer at the post, the
quartermaster at Fort Riley who buys for the Government, will buy no
grain from free-State men. Several from the Smoky Hill and from
Chapman's have been down there to find a market, and they all say the
same thing. The sutler at the post, Sandy's friend, told Mr. Fuller
that it was no use for any free-State man to come there with anything
to sell to the Government, at any price. And there is no other good
market nearer than the Missouri, you all know that,--one hundred and
fifty miles away."
"Well, I call that confoundedly mean!" cried Charlie, with fiery
indignation. "Do you suppose, father, that they have from Washington
any such instructions to discriminate against us?"
"I cannot say as to that, Charlie," replied his father; "I only tell
you what the other settlers report; and it sounds reasonable. That is
why the ruin of the corn-field is not so great a misfortune as it
might have been."