Chapter 22

AT the risk of being tedious, I will tell of one more day'sbuffalo hunting, to show the vicissitudes of this kind ofsport. Before doing so we will glance at another importantfeature of prairie life, a camp of Sioux Indians.

　　One evening, after halting on the banks of the Platte, weheard distant sounds of tomtoms on the other side of theriver. Jim, the half-breed, and Louis differed as to thetribe, and hence the friendliness or hostility, of ourneighbours. Louis advised saddling up and putting the nightbetween us; he regaled us to boot with a few blood-curdlingtales of Indian tortures, and of NOUS AUTRES EN HAUT. Jimtreated these with scorn, and declared he knew by the 'tunes'

　　(!) that the pow-wow was Sioux. Just now, he asserted, theSioux were friendly, and this 'village' was on its way toFort Laramie to barter 'robes' (buffalo skins) for blanketsand ammunition. He was quite willing to go over and talk tothem if we had no objection.

　　Fred, ever ready for adventure, would have joined him in aminute; but the river, which was running strong, was full ofnasty currents, and his injured knee disabled him fromswimming. No one else seemed tempted; so, following Jim'sexample, I stripped to my flannel shirt and moccasins, andcrossed the river, which was easier to get into than out of,and soon reached the 'village.' Jim was right, - they wereSioux, and friendly. They offered us a pipe of kinik (thedried bark of the red willow), and jabbered away with theirkinsman, who seemed almost more at home with them than withus.

　　Seeing one of their 'braves' with three fresh scalps at hisbelt, I asked for the history of them. In Sioux gutturalsthe story was a long one. Jim's translation amounted tothis: The scalps were 'lifted' from two Crows and a Ponkaw.

　　The Crows, it appeared, were the Sioux' natural enemies'anyhow,' for they occasionally hunted on each other'sranges. But the Ponkaw, whom he would not otherwise haveinjured, was casually met by him on a horse which the Siouxrecognised for a white man's. Upon being questioned how hecame by it, the Ponkaw simply replied that it was his own.

　　Whereupon the Sioux called him a liar; and proved it bysending an arrow through his body.

　　I didn't quite see it. But then, strictly speaking, I am nocollector of scalps. To preserve my own, I kept the hair onit as short as a tooth-brush.

　　Before we left, our hosts fed us on raw buffalo meat. This,cut in slices, and dried crisp in the sun, is excellent.

　　Their lodges were very comfortable, most of them large enoughto hold a dozen people. The ground inside was covered withbuffalo robes; and the sewn skins, spread tight upon theconverging poles, formed a tent stout enough to defy allweathers. In winter the lodge can be entirely closed; andwhen a fire is kindled in the centre, the smoke escaping at asmall hole where the poles join, the snugness is complete.

　　At the entrance of one of these lodges I watched a squaw andher child prepare a meal. When the fuel was collected, a fatpuppy, playing with the child, was seized by the squaw, andknocked on the throat - not head - with a stick. The puppywas then returned, kicking, to the tender mercies of theinfant; who exerted its small might to add to the animal'smiseries, while the mother fed the fire and filled a kettlefor the stew. The puppy, much more alive than dead, was heldby the hind leg over the flames as long as the squaw'sfingers could stand them. She then let it fall on theembers, where it struggled and squealed horribly, and wouldhave wriggled off, but for the little savage, who took goodcare to provide for the satisfactory singeing of itsplaymate.

　　Considering the length of its lineage, how remarkably haleand well preserved is our own barbarity!

　　We may now take our last look at the buffaloes, for we shallsee them no more. Again I quote my journal:

　　'JULY 5TH. - Men sulky because they have nothing to eat butrancid ham, and biscuit dust which has been so often soakedthat it is mouldy and sour. They are a dainty lot! Samsonand I left camp early with the hopes of getting meat. Whilehe was shooting prairie dogs his horse made off, and cost menearly an hour's riding to catch. Then, accidentally lettinggo of my mustang, he too escaped; and I had to run him downwith the other. Towards evening, spied a small band ofbuffaloes, which we approached by leading our horses up ahollow. They got our wind, however, and were gone before wewere aware of it. They were all young, and so fast, it tooka twenty minutes' gallop to come up with them. Samson'shorse put his foot in a hole, and the cropper they both gotgave the band a long start, as it became a stern chase, andno heading off.

　　'At length I managed to separate one from the herd by firingmy pistol into the "brown," and then devoted my efforts tohim alone. Once or twice he turned and glared savagelythrough his mane. When quite isolated he pulled up short, sodid I. We were about sixty yards apart. I flung the reinsupon the neck of the mustang, who was too blown to stir, andhandling my rifle, waited for the bull to move so that Imight see something more than the great shaggy front, whichscreened his body. But he stood his ground, tossing up thesand with his hoofs. Presently, instead of turning tail, heput his head down, and bellowing with rage, came at me ashard as he could tear. I had but a moment for decision, - todig spurs into the mustang, or risk the shot. I chose thelatter; paused till I was sure of his neck, and fired when hewas almost under me. In an instant I was sent flying; andthe mustang was on his back with all four legs in the air.

　　'The bull was probably as much astonished as we were. Hischarge had carried him about thirty yards, at most, beyondus. There he now stood; facing me, pawing the ground andsnorting as before. Badly wounded I knew him to be, - thatwas the worst of it; especially as my rifle, with itsremaining loaded barrel, lay right between us. To hesitatefor a second only, was to lose the game. There was no timeto think of bruises; I crawled, eyes on him, straight for myweapon: got it - it was already cocked, and the stockunbroken - raised my knee for a rest. We were only twentyyards apart (the shot meant death for one of the two), andjust catching a glimpse of his shoulder-blade, I pulled. Icould hear the thud of the heavy bullet, and - what wassweeter music - the ugh! of the fatal groan. The beastdropped on his knees, and a gush of blood spurted from hisnostrils.

　　'But the wild devil of a mustang? that was my first thoughtnow. Whenever one dismounted, it was necessary to loosen hislong lariat, and let it trail on the ground. Without thisthere was no chance of catching him. I saw at once what hadhappened: by the greatest good fortune, at the last moment,he must have made an instinctive start, which probably savedhis life, and mine too. The bull's horns had just missed hisentrails and my leg, - we were broadside on to the charge, -and had caught him in the thigh, below the hip. There was abig hole, and he was bleeding plentifully. For all that, hewouldn't let me catch him. He could go faster on three legsthan I on two.

　　'It was getting dark, I had not touched food since starting,nor had I wetted my lips. My thirst was now intolerable.

　　The travelling rule, about keeping on, was an ugly incubus.

　　Samson would go his own ways - he had sense enough for that -but how, when, where, was I to quench my thirst? Oh! for thetip of Lazarus' finger - or for choice, a bottle of Bass - tocool my tongue! Then too, whither would the mustang stray inthe night if I rested or fell asleep? Again and again Itried to stalk him by the starlight. Twice I got hold of histail, but he broke away. If I drove him down to the riverbanks the chance of catching him would be no better, and Ishould lose the dry ground to rest on.

　　'It was about as unpleasant a night as I had yet passed.

　　Every now and then I sat down, and dropped off to sleep fromsheer exhaustion. Every time this happened I dreamed ofsparkling drinks; then woke with a start to a lively sense ofthe reality, and anxious searches for the mustang.

　　'Directly the day dawned I drove the animal, now very stiff,straight down for the Platte. He wanted water fully as muchas his master; and when we sighted it he needed no moredriving. Such a hurry was he in that, in his rush for theriver, he got bogged in the muddy swamp at its edge. Iseized my chance, and had him fast in a minute. We bothplunged into the stream; I, clothes and all, and drank, anddrank, and drank.'

　　That evening I caught up the cavalcade.

　　How curious it is to look back upon such experiences from adifferent stage of life's journey! How would it have faredwith me had my rifle exploded with the fall? it was knockedout of my hands at full cock. How if the stock had beenbroken? It had been thrown at least ten yards. How if thehorn had entered my thigh instead of the horse's? How if Ihad fractured a limb, or had been stunned, or the bull hadcharged again while I was creeping up to him? Any one, ormore than one, of these contingencies were more likely tohappen than not. But nothing did happen, save - the best.

　　Not a thought of the kind ever crossed my mind, either at thetime or afterwards. Yet I was not a thoughtless man, only anaverage man. Nine Englishmen out of ten with a love of sport- as most Englishmen are - would have done, and have felt,just as I did. I was bruised and still; but so one is aftera run with hounds. I had had many a nastier fall hunting inDerbyshire. The worst that could happen did not happen; butthe worst never - well, so rarely does. One might shootoneself instead of the pigeon, or be caught picking forbiddenfruit. Narrow escapes are as good as broad ones. The truthis, when we are young, and active, and healthy, whateverhappens, of the pleasant or lucky kind, we accept as a matterof course.

　　Ah! youth! youth! If we only knew when we were well off,when we were happy, when we possessed all that this world hasto give! If we but knew that love is only a matter of courseso long as youth and its bounteous train is ours, we mightperhaps make the most of it, and give up looking for -something better. But what then? Give up the 'somethingbetter'? Give up pursuit, - the effort that makes us strong?

　　'Give up the sweets of hope'? No! 'tis better as it is,perhaps. The kitten plays with its tail, and the nightingalesings; but they think no more of happiness than the rose-budof its beauty. May be happiness comes not of too muchknowing, or too much thinking either.