A MORNING MEAL.
The two boys stood on the edge of a prairie which had a varying width of
from one to three miles. Looking to the right and the left, neither end
could be seen, so that there was no means of judging its length.
The trail led straight across to the wilderness on the other side, which
at that point was all of two miles distant. You can understand that
walking was so much easier on the open ground that any party of
travelers would hasten to take advantage of such a chance. The hoofs of
the half dozen horses had left such a distinct impression that the eye
could follow the trail a long ways from the margin of the woods.
This prairie was entirely covered with a growth of succulent grass. The
season was so late that it had lost most of its verdancy, but there was
an abundance of nutriment in the blades and it was splendid
feeding-ground--one of those breaks in the almost limitless forest of
which grazing animals were sure to take advantage.
The boys had paused only a minute or two, gazing out on the almost level
expanse, when Terry uttered an exclamation of delight and pointed to the
right. Looking in that direction (as Fred had done at the moment his
companion spoke), he saw a welcome sight indeed. A herd of buffaloes
were cropping the grass within gunshot of the young hunters.
As I have said in another place, there were no such droves as have
sometimes been seen on the vast prairies of the far west, numbering
fully a hundred thousand, though a century ago some amazing collections
of animals were met within sight of the Mississippi.
The herd upon which our friends looked with so much interest numbered
little more than a hundred, and they were ruminating along the side of
the prairie instead of cropping the grass in the middle of the plain.
Some of them seemed to be browsing among the trees and undergrowth, but
the major part were scattered over the prairie to a distance of two
hundred yards, while they were strung to a still greater extent parallel
with the course of the prairie itself. From this you will see they were
much dispersed, none of them being close to another, except he may have
brushed against him now and then.
The front of the drove was not less than two hundred feet away and
others could be heard ruminating among the trees, where their huge bushy
heads and big round eyes were often thrust into view. Some of them may
have caught sight of the lads, but if so, they did not consider them
worth attention, for they continued browsing and grazing, advancing step
by step toward the spot where our young friends stood.
"Frederick," said Terry, laying his hand on the arm of his companion,
and speaking with the gravity of a judge, "whin ye swoop yer gaze on
thim playthings out there, bear in mind that there's our breakfast, as
me grandmither obsarved whin the dinner table upsit and ivery thing
rolled down cellar."
"Our opinion is unanimous on that point; I have already selected my
victim, and if you will go away and start a fire, it will hurry matters
along."
"It ain't as bad as that," said Terry in some surprise, "I'm not so near
dead that I'm goin' to die in ten minutes if I don't git somethin' to
ate: I will stay and superintind the operations of shootin' one of them
little pets out there."
"It isn't the first buffalo I have killed--"
"I'm not aware that ye have killed that yit," interrupted the Irish lad
in his quizzical fashion.
"You soon will be, but I have been out with father before to-day and
shot buffaloes: have you?"
"No; whin I goes out huntin' yer fither has't the proud distinction of
bein' taken along. Lucky for the buffaloes I niver took a notion to go
out and kill siveral thousand: for that raison we find the drove out
there so innocent and confidin' that they don't know enough to be afeard
of us."
"Maybe they have no cause to be."
"But they can't know that _I'm_ not goin' to shoot among them,--so why
shouldn't they be scared out of their siven sinses? Howsumiver, ye have
me permission to show the animals that ye are actin' under me own eye
and orders and it will be an incouragement to yersilf to know the same."
From what has been said, it will be understood that Fred Linden knew
much more about buffaloes than did his companion. [The proper name is
_bison_: the genuine buffalo is not found in America.] As he had said,
this was not the first time he had hunted them, but with Terry Clark it
was different. He had spent a good deal of his time in the woods and had
gone in quest of wolves, bears and deer, but he had never brought down
one of the lumbering animals for whose flesh he now yearned with a
yearning that only the most ravening hunger can inspire.
Terry had formed a deep plot during the short conversation. He did not
know the best manner in which to shoot a buffalo and he was too proud to
ask instruction. He encouraged the scheme, therefore, of Fred making the
first shot. That would give him a chance to see how it was done, so
that when he came to exhibit _his_ skill, he would make no mistake.
Although up to this time the animals had not shown that they cared a
straw for the two beings who stood so near and were looking at them with
loaded guns in their hands, yet they were liable to become stampeded at
any moment. A snort and jump by a single animal were likely to set the
whole drove on a dead run, in which all hope of a breakfast on buffalo
steaks would be gone for that morning at least.
So, as a matter of prudence, Terry stayed where he was, but partly
sheltered himself, so as not to startle any one of the animals that
might come upon him suddenly. At the same time, Fred bent low and with
loaded and cocked rifle began stealing toward the nearest buffalo.
As it happened this was a cow in fine condition. She was plucking a
ribbon of grass that followed the edge of prairie. By some chemistry of
shadow and sunshine, there was this little strip of unusually tender
herbage, which the cow was eating in her quick, vigorous way, as though
afraid that some of her companions would find and take it from her.
Fred singled out this one as his prize. Being so close to the wood, he
could not have wanted a better chance to steal up to her. Indeed he had
but to stand still, for she was coming a regular half step at a time as
she clipped the grass in front of her; but the youth's hunger would not
allow him to wait the few minutes that would have been required.
When within fifty feet of the cow, Fred knelt on one knee and brought
his rifle to a level. The cow was still advancing, "head on," when he
made a noise similar to that which comes natural to you when you wish to
drive the hens out of your garden-patch. The cow stopped abruptly, threw
up her head and stared at the hunter. The sight of the crouching figure
must have suggested to the stupid animal that every thing was not right,
for with a frightened whiff, she bounded short around with the intention
of joining the other animals.
At the very moment she turned, Fred Linden fired, sending the bullet
directly back of her fore leg, where it tore its way through flesh,
muscles, bones and the heart, the battered bullet humming off through
the air on the other side.
No shot could have been more effective. The cow made a couple of wild
leaps and then lunged forward, her nose striking the earth with such
force that her head doubled under her and she swung over on her back and
side with a violence that made it seem as if she had fallen down a high
precipice.
Following his old rule, Fred loaded his gun where he stood, before
moving out to examine his prize. It was at this juncture that a stampede
of the whole drove was due. Now that the boys had secured their
breakfast they would not have cared had the animals thundered off out of
sight.
But the terror of the smitten creature was too brief to affect the rest,
even though several were quite close to her at the time she gave the
snort and rolled over on the ground. A cow grazing near did raise her
head for a moment and look at her fallen friend as though she hardly
understood it. She seemed to meditate plunging into the rest of the
drove with head down and with tidings of the disaster, but she must
have concluded that since the other cow was dead, it wasn't worth while
to make any fuss over it; for she dropped her head and resumed her
grazing as though she had no further interest in the matter.
Even when Fred ran out, and, stooping down, began cutting a large slice
from the shoulder of the victim, none of the others paid any attention
to him. Close behind him came Terry, who was so desirous of examining
the prize, that he postponed starting the fire.
"Terry, how will that do for a shot?" asked Fred, with some pride, as he
plied his knife.
"Where did ye land the shot?"
"Right there, behind the fore leg; you can see the hole where it
entered."
Terry turned his head to one side, closed an eye and surveyed it as
though he was measuring the height of a wall: then he shook his head.
"What's the matter with you?" asked the impatient Fred.
"Ye are a sixteenth of an inch too far forward, be the token of which
the ball wint through the upper part of the heart: whin ye kill a
buffalo coow ye should always sind the ball through the lower instead of
the upper part of the heart. Ye surprise me so much that I am graved
with ye, me own Fred."
The latter laughed.
"I suppose it would have done as well had I sent the bullet through her
brain; but that takes the finest kind of marksmanship."
"Av course, which explains why ye didn't dare attimpt it: whin we have
finished our dinner, supper and breakfast all in one, I'll step out on
the perarie, strike an impressive attitude and drop the biggest bull in
the drove, just to tach ye the gintaal way of doin' that same thing."
"Well, I shall be glad to learn the best style of bringing down the
creatures."
By this time, Fred had severed a piece of meat from the shoulder of the
buffalo. It weighed several pounds, but Terry broke in with the
wondering inquiry:
"What are ye goin' to do with _that_?"
"That's for our dinner; what would you suppose?"
"I thought that was the part of the coow that ye were goin' to be
sinsible enough to lave behind while we built a fire around the rist and
had enough of a maal to stay the pangs of hunger."
Without waiting to hear the response of his companion, Terry ran among
the trees and began gathering wood with which to start a blaze. Both
boys were such experts at this that only a brief time was necessary.
Fred laid the buffalo steak on the leaves and took part, striking the
flame with his own flint and tinder. There was no water within reach and
this was quite a deprivation, but the boys were hungry enough to wait
for that. From his scant store of mixed salt and sugar, Fred drew forth
enough to season the enormous slice and it was speedily half broiled.
Two such hungry youngsters are not likely to be particular about their
dinner being done to a turn, and they were eager to eat it when it was
exceedingly rare. Leaving Terry to make known when it was ready for the
palate, Fred walked to the edge of the prairie to take a survey.
He could not forget that they had serious business before them, and,
though he was warranted in believing that there was nothing to fear from
the Winnebagos who had caused so much trouble, he was too wise to take
any thing for granted.
He saw the buffaloes cropping the grass with the same vigorous
persistency which they will show for hours, while the prairie, extending
far to the right and left, failed to show any other living creature upon
it. So far as he could tell, there was no cause for fear.