CHAPTER I.
 The backwoods settlement--Crusoe's parentage, and earlyhistory--The agonizing pains and sorrows of his puppyhood,and other interesting matters.
The dog Crusoe was once a pup. Now do not,courteous reader, toss your head contemptuously,and exclaim, "Of course he was; I could have told youthat." You know very well that you have often seen aman above six feet high, broad and powerful as a lion,with a bronzed shaggy visage and the stern glance of aneagle, of whom you have said, or thought, or heard otherssay, "It is scarcely possible to believe that such a manwas once a squalling baby." If you had seen our heroin all the strength and majesty of full-grown doghood,you would have experienced a vague sort of surprisehad we told you--as we now repeat--that the dogCrusoe was once a pup--a soft, round, sprawling,squeaking pup, as fat as a tallow candle, and as blindas a bat.
But we draw particular attention to the fact ofCrusoe's having once been a pup, because in connectionwith the days of his puppyhood there hangs a tale.
This peculiar dog may thus be said to have had twotails--one in connection with his body, the other withhis career. This tale, though short, is very harrowing,and as it is intimately connected with Crusoe's subsequenthistory we will relate it here. But before doingso we must beg our reader to accompany us beyond thecivilized portions of the United States of America--beyondthe frontier settlements of the "far west," intothose wild prairies which are watered by the greatMissouri River--the Father of Waters--and his numeroustributaries.
Here dwell the Pawnees, the Sioux, the Delawarers,the Crows, the Blackfeet, and many other tribes of RedIndians, who are gradually retreating step by step towardsthe Rocky Mountains as the advancing whiteman cuts down their trees and ploughs up their prairies.
Here, too, dwell the wild horse and the wild ass, thedeer, the buffalo, and the badger; all, men and brutesalike, wild as the power of untamed and ungovernablepassion can make them, and free as the wind thatsweeps over their mighty plains.
There is a romantic and exquisitely beautiful spot onthe banks of one of the tributaries above referredto--long stretch of mingled woodland and meadow, witha magnificent lake lying like a gem in its green bosom--whichgoes by the name of the Mustang Valley.
This remote vale, even at the present day, is but thinlypeopled by white men, and is still a frontier settlementround which the wolf and the bear prowl curiously,and from which the startled deer bounds terrified away.
At the period of which we write the valley had justbeen taken possession of by several families of squatters,who, tired of the turmoil and the squabbles of the thenfrontier settlements, had pushed boldly into the farwest to seek a new home for themselves, where theycould have "elbow room," regardless alike of thedangers they might encounter in unknown lands and ofthe Redskins who dwelt there.
The squatters were well armed with axes, rifles, andammunition. Most of the women were used to dangersand alarms, and placed implicit reliance in the powerof their fathers, husbands, and brothers to protect them;and well they might, for a bolder set of stalwart menthan these backwoodsmen never trod the wilderness.
Each had been trained to the use of the rifle and theaxe from infancy, and many of them had spent so muchof their lives in the woods that they were more than amatch for the Indian in his own peculiar pursuits ofhunting and war. When the squatters first issued fromthe woods bordering the valley, an immense herd ofwild horses or mustangs were browsing on the plain.
These no sooner beheld the cavalcade of white menthan, uttering a wild neigh, they tossed their flowingmanes in the breeze and dashed away like a whirlwind.
This incident procured the valley its name.
The new-comers gave one satisfied glance at theirfuture home, and then set to work to erect log hutsforthwith. Soon the axe was heard ringing throughthe forests, and tree after tree fell to the ground, whilethe occasional sharp ring of a rifle told that the hunterswere catering successfully for the camp. In course oftime the Mustang Valley began to assume the aspect ofa thriving settlement, with cottages and waving fieldsclustered together in the midst of it.
Of course the savages soon found it out and paid itoccasional visits. These dark-skinned tenants of thewoods brought furs of wild animals with them, whichthey exchanged with the white men for knives, andbeads, and baubles and trinkets of brass and tin. Butthey hated the "Pale-faces" with bitter hatred, becausetheir encroachments had at this time materially curtailedthe extent of their hunting-grounds, and nothingbut the numbers and known courage of the squattersprevented these savages from butchering and scalpingthem all.
The leader of this band of pioneers was a MajorHope, a gentleman whose love for nature in its wildestaspects determined him to exchange barrack life for alife in the woods. The major was a first-rate shot, abold, fearless man, and an enthusiastic naturalist. Hewas past the prime of life, and being a bachelor, wasunencumbered with a family. His first act on reachingthe site of the new settlement was to commence theerection of a block-house, to which the people mightretire in case of a general attack by the Indians.
In this block-house Major Hope took up his abodeas the guardian of the settlement. And here the dogCrusoe was born; here he sprawled in the early mornof life; here he leaped, and yelped, and wagged hisshaggy tail in the excessive glee of puppyhood; andfrom the wooden portals of this block-house he boundedforth to the chase in all the fire, and strength, andmajesty of full-grown doghood.
Crusoe's father and mother were magnificent Newfoundlanders.
There was no doubt as to their being ofthe genuine breed, for Major Hope had received themas a parting gift from a brother officer, who had broughtthem both from Newfoundland itself. The father'sname was Crusoe, the mother's name was Fan. Whythe father had been so called no one could tell. Theman from whom Major Hope's friend had obtained thepair was a poor, illiterate fisherman, who had neverheard of the celebrated "Robinson" in all his life. Allhe knew was that Fan had been named after his ownwife. As for Crusoe, he had got him from a friend,who had got him from another friend, whose cousin hadreceived him as a marriage-gift from a friend of his;and that each had said to the other that the dog's namewas "Crusoe," without reasons being asked or given oneither side. On arriving at New York the major'sfriend, as we have said, made him a present of the dogs.
Not being much of a dog fancier, he soon tired of oldCrusoe, and gave him away to a gentleman, who tookhim down to Florida, and that was the end of him. Hewas never heard of more.
When Crusoe, junior, was born, he was born, ofcourse, without a name. That was given to him afterwardsin honour of his father. He was also born incompany with a brother and two sisters, all of whomdrowned themselves accidentally, in the first month oftheir existence, by falling into the river which flowedpast the block-house--a calamity which occurred,doubtless, in consequence of their having gone out withouttheir mother's leave. Little Crusoe was with hisbrother and sisters at the time, and fell in along withthem, but was saved from sharing their fate by hismother, who, seeing what had happened, dashed withan agonized howl into the water, and, seizing him inher mouth, brought him ashore in a half-drowned condition.
She afterwards brought the others ashore oneby one, but the poor little things were dead.
And now we come to the harrowing part of our tale,for the proper understanding of which the foregoingdissertation was needful.
One beautiful afternoon, in that charming season ofthe American year called the Indian summer, therecame a family of Sioux Indians to the Mustang Valley,and pitched their tent close to the block-house. Ayoung hunter stood leaning against the gate-post of thepalisades, watching the movements of the Indians, who,having just finished a long "palaver" or talk withMajor Hope, were now in the act of preparing supper.
A fire had been kindled on the greensward in front ofthe tent, and above it stood a tripod, from which dependeda large tin camp-kettle. Over this hung an ill-favouredIndian woman, or squaw, who, besides attendingto the contents of the pot, bestowed sundry cuffs andkicks upon her little child, which sat near to her playingwith several Indian curs that gambolled round the fire.
The master of the family and his two sons reclined onbuffalo robes, smoking their stone pipes or calumets insilence. There was nothing peculiar in their appearance.
Their faces were neither dignified nor coarse inexpression, but wore an aspect of stupid apathy, whichformed a striking contrast to the countenance of theyoung hunter, who seemed an amused spectator of theirproceedings.
The youth referred to was very unlike, in manyrespects, to what we are accustomed to suppose a backwoodshunter should be. He did not possess that quietgravity and staid demeanour which often characterizethese men. True, he was tall and strongly made, butno one would have called him stalwart, and his frameindicated grace and agility rather than strength. Butthe point about him which rendered him different fromhis companions was his bounding, irrepressible flow ofspirits, strangely coupled with an intense love of solitarywandering in the woods. None seemed so well fittedfor social enjoyment as he; none laughed so heartily, orexpressed such glee in his mischief-loving eye; yet fordays together he went off alone into the forest, andwandered where his fancy led him, as grave and silentas an Indian warrior.
After all, there was nothing mysterious in this. Theboy followed implicitly the dictates of nature withinhim. He was amiable, straightforward, sanguine, andintensely earnest. When he laughed, he let it out, assailors have it, "with a will." When there was goodcause to be grave, no power on earth could make himsmile. We have called him boy, but in truth he wasabout that uncertain period of life when a youth is saidto be neither a man nor a boy. His face was good-looking(every earnest, candid face is) and masculine;his hair was reddish-brown and his eye bright-blue.
He was costumed in the deerskin cap, leggings, moccasins,and leathern shirt common to the western hunter.
"You seem tickled wi' the Injuns, Dick Varley,"said a man who at that moment issued from the blockhouse.
"That's just what I am, Joe Blunt," replied theyouth, turning with a broad grin to his companion.
"Have a care, lad; do not laugh at 'em too much.
They soon take offence; an' them Redskins never forgive.""But I'm only laughing at the baby," returned theyouth, pointing to the child, which, with a mixture ofboldness and timidity, was playing with a pup, wrinklingup its fat visage into a smile when its playmaterushed away in sport, and opening wide its jet-blackeyes in grave anxiety as the pup returned at full gallop.
"It 'ud make an owl laugh," continued young Varley,"to see such a queer pictur' o' itself."He paused suddenly, and a dark frown covered hisface as he saw the Indian woman stoop quickly down,catch the pup by its hind-leg with one hand, seize aheavy piece of wood with the other, and strike it severalviolent blows on the throat. Without taking thetrouble to kill the poor animal outright, the savage thenheld its still writhing body over the fire in order tosinge off the hair before putting it into the pot to becooked.
The cruel act drew young Varley's attention moreclosely to the pup, and it flashed across his mind thatthis could be no other than young Crusoe, which neitherhe nor his companion had before seen, although they hadoften heard others speak of and describe it.
Had the little creature been one of the unfortunateIndian curs, the two hunters would probably haveturned from the sickening sight with disgust, feelingthat, however much they might dislike such cruelty,it would be of no use attempting to interfere withIndian usages. But the instant the idea that it wasCrusoe occurred to Varley he uttered a yell of anger,and sprang towards the woman with a bound thatcaused the three Indians to leap to their feet and grasptheir tomahawks.
Blunt did not move from the gate, but threw forwardhis rifle with a careless motion, but an expressive glance,that caused the Indians to resume their seats and pipeswith an emphatic "Wah!" of disgust at having beenstartled out of their propriety by a trifle; while DickVarley snatched poor Crusoe from his dangerous andpainful position, scowled angrily in the woman's face,and turning on his heel, walked up to the house, holdingthe pup tenderly in his arms.
Joe Blunt gazed after his friend with a grave, solemnexpression of countenance till he disappeared; then helooked at the ground, and shook his head.
Joe was one of the regular out-and-out backwoodshunters, both in appearance and in fact--broad, tall,massive, lion-like; gifted with the hunting, stalking,running, and trail-following powers of the savage, andwith a superabundance of the shooting and fightingpowers, the daring, and dash of the Anglo-Saxon. Hewas grave, too--seldom smiled, and rarely laughed.
His expression almost at all times was a compound ofseriousness and good-humour. With the rifle he wasa good, steady shot, but by no means a "crack"one. His ball never failed to hit, but it often failedto kill.
After meditating a few seconds, Joe Blunt againshook his head, and muttered to himself, "The boy'sbold enough, but he's too reckless for a hunter. Therewas no need for that yell, now--none at all."Having uttered this sagacious remark, he threw hisrifle into the hollow of his left arm, turned round, andstrode off with a long, slow step towards his own cottage.
Blunt was an American by birth, but of Irish extraction,and to an attentive ear there was a faint echo of thebrogue in his tone, which seemed to have been handeddown to him as a threadbare and almost worn-out heirloom.
Poor Crusoe was singed almost naked. His wretchedtail seemed little better than a piece of wire filed off toa point, and he vented his misery in piteous squeaks asthe sympathetic Varley confided him tenderly to thecare of his mother. How Fan managed to cure him noone can tell, but cure him she did, for, in the course ofa few weeks, Crusoe was as well and sleek and fat asever.
CHAPTER II.
 

 
A shooting-match and its consequences--New friendsintroduced to the reader--Crusoe and his motherchange masters.
Shortly after the incident narrated in the lastchapter the squatters of the Mustang Valley losttheir leader. Major Hope suddenly announced his intentionof quitting the settlement and returning to thecivilized world. Private matters, he said, required hispresence there--matters which he did not choose tospeak of, but which would prevent his returning againto reside among them. Go he must, and, being a manof determination, go he did; but before going he distributedall his goods and chattels among the settlers.
He even gave away his rifle, and Fan and Crusoe.
These last, however, he resolved should go together;and as they were well worth having, he announced thathe would give them to the best shot in the valley. Hestipulated that the winner should escort him to thenearest settlement eastward, after which he might returnwith the rifle on his shoulder.
Accordingly, a long level piece of ground on theriver's bank, with a perpendicular cliff at the end ofit, was selected as the shooting-ground, and, on theappointed day, at the appointed hour, the competitorsbegan to assemble.
"Well, lad, first as usual," exclaimed Joe Blunt, as hereached the ground and found Dick Varley there beforehim.
"I've bin here more than an hour lookin' for a newkind o' flower that Jack Morgan told me he'd seen.
And I've found it too. Look here; did you ever seeone like it before?"Blunt leaned his rifle against a tree, and carefullyexamined the flower.
"Why, yes, I've seed a-many o' them up about theRocky Mountains, but never one here-away. It seemsto have gone lost itself. The last I seed, if I remimberrightly, wos near the head-waters o' the YellowstoneRiver, it wos--jest where I shot a grizzly bar.""Was that the bar that gave you the wipe on thecheek?" asked Varley, forgetting the flower in hisinterest about the bear.
"It wos. I put six balls in that bar's carcass, andstuck my knife into its heart ten times, afore it gaveout; an' it nearly ripped the shirt off my back afore Iwos done with it.""I would give my rifle to get a chance at a grizzly!"exclaimed Varley, with a sudden burst of enthusiasm.
"Whoever got it wouldn't have much to brag of," remarkeda burly young backwoodsman, as he joined them.
His remark was true, for poor Dick's weapon wasbut a sorry affair. It missed fire, and it hung fire; andeven when it did fire, it remained a matter of doubt inits owner's mind whether the slight deviations fromthe direct line made by his bullets were the result ofhis or its bad shooting.
Further comment upon it was checked by the arrivalof a dozen or more hunters on the scene of action.
They were a sturdy set of bronzed, bold, fearless men,and one felt, on looking at them, that they would provemore than a match for several hundreds of Indians inopen fight. A few minutes after, the major himselfcame on the ground with the prize rifle on his shoulder,and Fan and Crusoe at his heels--the latter tumbling,scrambling, and yelping after its mother, fat and clumsy,and happy as possible, having evidently quite forgottenthat it had been nearly roasted alive only a few weeksbefore.
Immediately all eyes were on the rifle, and its meritswere discussed with animation.
And well did it deserve discussion, for such a piecehad never before been seen on the western frontier. Itwas shorter in the barrel and larger in the bore thanthe weapons chiefly in vogue at that time, and, besidesbeing of beautiful workmanship, was silver-mounted.
But the grand peculiarity about it, and that whichafterwards rendered it the mystery of mysteries to thesavages, was that it had two sets of locks--one percussion,the other flint--so that, when caps failed, bytaking off the one set of locks and affixing the others,it was converted into a flint rifle. The major, however,took care never to run short of caps, so that the flintlocks were merely held as a reserve in case of need.
"Now, lads," cried Major Hope, stepping up to thepoint whence they were to shoot, "remember the terms.
He who first drives the nail obtains the rifle, Fan, andher pup, and accompanies me to the nearest settlement.
Each man shoots with his own gun, and draws lots forthe chance.""Agreed," cried the men.
"Well, then, wipe your guns and draw lots. Henriwill fix the nail. Here it is."The individual who stepped, or rather plunged forwardto receive the nail was a rare and remarkablespecimen of mankind. Like his comrades, he was halfa farmer and half a hunter. Like them, too, he wasclad in deerskin, and was tall and strong--nay, more,he was gigantic. But, unlike them, he was clumsy,awkward, loose-jointed, and a bad shot. NeverthelessHenri was an immense favourite in the settlement, forhis good-humour knew no bounds. No one ever sawhim frown. Even when fighting with the savages, ashe was sometimes compelled to do in self-defence, hewent at them with a sort of jovial rage that was almostlaughable. Inconsiderate recklessness was one of hischief characteristics, so that his comrades were ratherafraid of him on the war-trail or in the hunt, wherecaution and frequently soundless motion were essentialto success or safety. But when Henri had a comradeat his side to check him he was safe enough, beinghumble-minded and obedient. Men used to say hemust have been born under a lucky star, for, notwithstandinghis natural inaptitude for all sorts of backwoodslife, he managed to scramble through everythingwith safety, often with success, and sometimes withcredit.
To see Henri stalk a deer was worth a long day'sjourney. Joe Blunt used to say he was "all jintstogether, from the top of his head to the sole of hismoccasin." He threw his immense form into the mostinconceivable contortions, and slowly wound his way,sometimes on hands and knees, sometimes flat, throughbush and brake, as if there was not a bone in his body,and without the slightest noise. This sort of work wasso much against his plunging nature that he took longto learn it; but when, through hard practice and the lossof many a fine deer, he came at length to break himselfin to it, he gradually progressed to perfection, andultimately became the best stalker in the valley. This,and this alone, enabled him to procure game, for, beingshort-sighted, he could hit nothing beyond fifty yards,except a buffalo or a barn-door.
Yet that same lithe body, which seemed as thoughtotally unhinged, could no more be bent, when themuscles were strung, than an iron post. No onewrestled with Henri unless he wished to have his backbroken. Few could equal and none could beat himat running or leaping except Dick Varley. WhenHenri ran a race even Joe Blunt laughed outright, forarms and legs went like independent flails. When heleaped, he hurled himself into space with a degree ofviolence that seemed to insure a somersault; yet healways came down with a crash on his feet. Plungingwas Henri's forte. He generally lounged about thesettlement when unoccupied, with his hands behind hisback, apparently in a reverie, and when called on to act,he seemed to fancy he must have lost time, and couldonly make up for it by plunging. This habit got himinto many awkward scrapes, but his herculean poweras often got him out of them. He was a French-Canadian,and a particularly bad speaker of the Englishlanguage.
We offer no apology for this elaborate introductionof Henri, for he was as good-hearted a fellow as everlived, and deserves special notice.
But to return. The sort of rifle practice called"driving the nail," by which this match was to bedecided, was, and we believe still is, common among thehunters of the far west. It consisted in this: anordinary large-headed nail was driven a short way intoa plank or a tree, and the hunters, standing at a distanceof fifty yards or so, fired at it until they succeeded indriving it home. On the present occasion the majorresolved to test their shooting by making the distanceseventy yards.
Some of the older men shook their heads.
"It's too far," said one; "ye might as well try tosnuff the nose o' a mosquito.""Jim Scraggs is the only man as'll hit that," saidanother.
The man referred to was a long, lank, lantern-jawedfellow, with a cross-grained expression of countenance.
He used the long, heavy Kentucky rifle, which, fromthe ball being little larger than a pea, was called a pea-rifle.
Jim was no favourite, and had been namedScraggs by his companions on account of his appearance.
In a few minutes the lots were drawn, and theshooting began. Each hunter wiped out the barrel ofhis piece with his ramrod as he stepped forward; then,placing a ball in the palm of his left hand, he drew thestopper of his powder-horn with his teeth, and pouredout as much powder as sufficed to cover the bullet.
This was the regular measure among them. Littletime was lost in firing, for these men did not "hang"on their aim. The point of the rifle was slowly raisedto the object, and the instant the sight covered it theball sped to its mark. In a few minutes the nail wasencircled by bullet holes, scarcely two of which weremore than an inch distant from the mark, and one--firedby Joe Blunt--entered the tree close beside it.
"Ah, Joe!" said the major, "I thought you wouldhave carried off the prize.""So did not I, sir," returned Blunt, with a shake ofhis head. "Had it a-bin a half-dollar at a hundredyards, I'd ha' done better, but I never could hit the nail.
It's too small to see.""That's cos ye've got no eyes," remarked Jim Scraggs,with a sneer, as he stepped forward.
All tongues were now hushed, for the expectedchampion was about to fire. The sharp crack of therifle was followed by a shout, for Jim had hit the nail-headon the edge, and part of the bullet stuck to it.
"That wins if there's no better," said the major,scarce able to conceal his disappointment. "Who comesnext?"To this question Henri answered by stepping up tothe line, straddling his legs, and executing preliminarymovements with his rifle, that seemed to indicate anintention on his part to throw the weapon bodily at themark. He was received with a shout of mingled laughterand applause. After gazing steadily at the mark fora few seconds, a broad grin overspread his countenance,and looking round at his companions, hesaid,--"Ha! mes boys, I can-not behold de nail at all!""Can ye 'behold' the tree?" shouted a voice, whenthe laugh that followed this announcement had somewhatabated.
"Oh! oui," replied Henri quite coolly; "I can seehim, an' a goot small bit of de forest beyond.""Fire at it, then. If ye hit the tree ye desarve therifle--leastways ye ought to get the pup."Henri grinned again, and fired instantly, withouttaking aim.
The shot was followed by an exclamation of surprise,for the bullet was found close beside the nail.
"It's more be good luck than good shootin'," remarkedJim Scraggs.
"Possiblement," answered Henri modestly, as he retreatedto the rear and wiped out his rifle; "mais Ihave kill most of my deer by dat same goot luck.""Bravo, Henri!" said Major Hope as he passed;"you deserve to win, anyhow. Who's next?""Dick Varley," cried several voices; "where's Varley?
Come on, youngster, an' take yer shot."The youth came forward with evident reluctance.
"It's of no manner o' use," he whispered to Joe Bluntas he passed, "I can't depend on my old gun.""Never give in," whispered Blunt, encouragingly.
Poor Varley's want of confidence in his rifle wasmerited, for, on pulling the trigger, the faithless lockmissed fire.
"Lend him another gun," cried several voices.
"'Gainst rules laid down by Major Hope," saidScraggs.
"Well, so it is; try again."Varley did try again, and so successfully, too, thatthe ball hit the nail on the head, leaving a portion ofthe lead sticking to its edge.
Of course this was greeted with a cheer, and a louddispute began as to which was the better shot of thetwo.
"There are others to shoot yet," cried the major.
"Make way. Look out."The men fell back, and the few hunters who had notyet fired took their shots, but without coming nearerthe mark.
It was now agreed that Jim Scraggs and Dick Varley,being the two best shots, should try over again, and itwas also agreed that Dick should have the use of Blunt'srifle. Lots were again drawn for the first shot, and itfell to Dick, who immediately stepped out, aimed somewhathastily, and fired.
"Hit again!" shouted those who had run forward toexamine the mark. "Half the bullet cut off by thenail head!"Some of the more enthusiastic of Dick's friendscheered lustily, but the most of the hunters were graveand silent, for they knew Jim's powers, and felt that hewould certainly do his best. Jim now stepped up tothe line, and, looking earnestly at the mark, threw forwardhis rifle.
At that moment our friend Crusoe, tired of tormentinghis mother, waddled stupidly and innocentlyinto the midst of the crowd of men, and in so doingreceived Henri's heel and the full weight of his elephantinebody on its fore paw. The horrible and electricyell that instantly issued from his agonized throat couldonly be compared, as Joe Blunt expressed it, "to thelast dyin' screech o' a bustin' steam biler!" We cannotsay that the effect was startling, for these backwoodsmenhad been born and bred in the midst of alarms,and were so used to them that a "bustin' steam biler"itself, unless it had blown them fairly off their legs,would not have startled them. But the effect, such asit was, was sufficient to disconcert the aim of JimScraggs, who fired at the same instant, and missed thenail by a hair's-breadth.
'Turning round in towering wrath, Scraggs aimed akick at the poor pup, which, had it taken effect, wouldcertainly have terminated the innocent existence of thatremarkable dog on the spot; but quick as lightningHenri interposed the butt of his rifle, and Jim's shinmet it with a violence that caused him to howl withrage and pain.
"Oh! pardon me, broder," cried Henri, shrinkingback, with the drollest expression of mingled pity andglee.
Jim's discretion, on this occasion, was superior to hisvalour; he turned away with a coarse expression ofanger and left the ground.
Meanwhile the major handed the silver rifle to youngVarley. "It couldn't have fallen into better hands," hesaid. "You'll do it credit, lad, I know that full well;and let me assure you it will never play you false.
Only keep it clean, don't overcharge it, aim true, and itwill never miss the mark."While the hunters crowded round Dick to congratulatehim and examine the piece, he stood with a mingledfeeling of bashfulness and delight at his unexpected goodfortune. Recovering himself suddenly, he seized his oldrifle, and dropping quietly to the outskirts of the crowd,while the men were still busy handling and discussingthe merits of the prize, went up, unobserved, to a boyof about thirteen years of age, and touched him on theshoulder.
"Here, Marston, you know I often said ye shouldhave the old rifle when I was rich enough to get a newone. Take it now, lad. It's come to ye sooner thaneither o' us expected.""Dick," said the boy, grasping his friend's handwarmly, "ye're true as heart of oak. It's good of 'ee;that's a fact.""Not a bit, boy; it costs me nothin' to give away anold gun that I've no use for, an's worth little, but itmakes me right glad to have the chance to do it."Marston had longed for a rifle ever since he couldwalk; but his prospects of obtaining one were very poorindeed at that time, and it is a question whether he didnot at that moment experience as much joy in handlingthe old piece as his friend felt in shouldering the prize.
A difficulty now occurred which had not before beenthought of. This was no less than the absolute refusalof Dick Varley's canine property to follow him. Fanhad no idea of changing masters without her consentbeing asked or her inclination being consulted.
"You'll have to tie her up for a while, I fear," saidthe major.
"No fear," answered the youth. "Dog natur's likehuman natur'!"Saying this he seized Crusoe by the neck, stuffedhim comfortably into the bosom of his hunting-shirt,and walked rapidly away with the prize rifle on hisshoulder.
Fan had not bargained for this. She stood irresolute,gazing now to the right and now to the left, as themajor retired in one direction and Dick with Crusoe inanother. Suddenly Crusoe, who, although comfortablein body, was ill at ease in spirit, gave utterance to amelancholy howl. The mother's love instantly prevailed.
For one moment she pricked up her ears at the sound,and then, lowering them, trotted quietly after her newmaster, and followed him to his cottage on the marginof the lake.

 
CHAPTER III.
 Speculative remarks with which the reader may or may not agree--Anold woman--Hopes and wishes commingled with hard facts--The dogCrusoe's education begun.
It is pleasant to look upon a serene, quiet, humbleface. On such a face did Richard Varley lookevery night when he entered his mother's cottage. Mrs.
Varley was a widow, and she had followed the fortunesof her brother, Daniel Hood, ever since the death of herhusband. Love for her only brother induced her toforsake the peaceful village of Maryland and enter uponthe wild life of a backwoods settlement. Dick's motherwas thin, and old, and wrinkled, but her face wasstamped with a species of beauty which neverfades--the beauty of a loving look. Ah! the brow of snowand the peach-bloom cheek may snare the heart of manfor a time, but the loving look alone can forge thatadamantine chain that time, age, eternity shall neverbreak.
Mistake us not, reader, and bear with us if we attemptto analyze this look which characterized Mrs. Varley.
A rare diamond is worth stopping to glance at, evenwhen one is in a hurry. The brightest jewel in thehuman heart is worth a thought or two. By a lovinglook we do not mean a look of love bestowed on abeloved object. That is common enough; and thankfulshould we be that it is so common in a world that'soverfull of hatred. Still less do we mean that smileand look of intense affection with which some people--goodpeople too--greet friend and foe alike, and bywhich effort to work out their beau ideal of the expressionof Christian love they do signally damage theircause, by saddening the serious and repelling the gay.
Much less do we mean that perpetual smile of good-willwhich argues more of personal comfort and self-lovethan anything else. No; the loving look we speak ofis as often grave as gay. Its character depends verymuch on the face through which it beams. And itcannot be counterfeited. Its ring defies imitation. Likethe clouded sun of April, it can pierce through tears ofsorrow; like the noontide sun of summer, it can blazein warm smiles; like the northern lights of winter, itcan gleam in depths of woe;--but it is always the same,modified, doubtless, and rendered more or less patent toothers, according to the natural amiability of him or herwho bestows it. No one can put it on; still less canany one put it off. Its range is universal; it embracesall mankind, though, of course, it is intensified on a fewfavoured objects; its seat is in the depths of a renewedheart, and its foundation lies in love to God.
Young Varley's mother lived in a cottage which wasof the smallest possible dimensions consistent with comfort.
It was made of logs, as, indeed, were all the othercottages in the valley. The door was in the centre, anda passage from it to the back of the dwelling divided itinto two rooms. One of these was sub-divided by athin partition, the inner room being Mrs. Varley's bedroom,the outer Dick's. Daniel Hood's dormitory wasa corner of the kitchen, which apartment served also asa parlour.
The rooms were lighted by two windows, one on eachside of the door, which gave to the house the appearanceof having a nose and two eyes. Houses of this kindhave literally got a sort of expression on--if we mayuse the word--their countenances. Square windowsgive the appearance of easy-going placidity; longishones, that of surprise. Mrs. Varley's was a surprisecottage; and this was in keeping with the scene inwhich it stood, for the clear lake in front, studded withislands, and the distant hills beyond, composed a sceneso surprisingly beautiful that it never failed to call forthan expression of astonished admiration from every newvisitor to the Mustang Valley.
"My boy," exclaimed Mrs. Varley, as her son enteredthe cottage with a bound, "why so hurried to-day?
Deary me! where got you the grand gun?""Won it, mother!""Won it, my son?""Ay, won it, mother. Druve the nail almost, andwould ha' druve it altogether had I bin more used toJoe Blunt's rifle."Mrs. Varley's heart beat high, and her face flushedwith pride as she gazed at her son, who laid the rifle onthe table for her inspection, while he rattled off ananimated and somewhat disjointed account of thematch.
"Deary me! now that was good, that was cliver.
But what's that scraping at the door?""Oh! that's Fan; I forgot her. Here! here! Fan!
Come in, good dog," he cried, rising and opening thedoor.
Fan entered and stopped short, evidently uncomfortable.
"My boy, what do ye with the major's dog?""Won her too, mother!""Won her, my son?""Ay, won her, and the pup too; see, here it is!" andhe plucked Crusoe from his bosom.
Crusoe having found his position to be one of greatcomfort had fallen into a profound slumber, and onbeing thus unceremoniously awakened he gave forth ayelp of discontent that brought Fan in a state of franticsympathy to his side.
"There you are, Fan; take it to a corner and makeyourself at home.--Ay, that's right, mother, give hersomethin' to eat; she's hungry, I know by the look o'
her eye.""Deary me, Dick!" said Mrs. Varley, who now proceededto spread the youth's mid-day meal before him,"did ye drive the nail three times?""No, only once, and that not parfetly. Brought 'emall down at one shot--rifle, Fan, an' pup!""Well, well, now that was cliver; but--." Here theold woman paused and looked grave.
"But what, mother?""You'll be wantin' to go off to the mountains now, Ifear me, boy.""Wantin' now!" exclaimed the youth earnestly; "I'malways wantin'. I've bin wantin' ever since I couldwalk; but I won't go till you let me, mother, that Iwon't!" And he struck the table with his fist so forciblythat the platters rung again.
"You're a good boy, Dick; but you're too young yitto ventur' among the Redskins.""An' yit, if I don't ventur' young, I'd better not ventur'
at all. You know, mother dear, I don't want toleave you; but I was born to be a hunter, and everybodyin them parts is a hunter, and I can't hunt in thekitchen you know, mother!"At this point the conversation was interrupted by asound that caused young Varley to spring up and seizehis rifle, and Fan to show her teeth and growl.
"Hist, mother! that's like horses' hoofs," he whispered,opening the door and gazing intently in thedirection whence the sound came.
Louder and louder it came, until an opening in theforest showed the advancing cavalcade to be a party ofwhite men. In another moment they were in full view--aband of about thirty horsemen, clad in the leatherncostume and armed with the long rifle of the far west.
Some wore portions of the gaudy Indian dress, whichgave to them a brilliant, dashing look. They came onstraight for the block-house, and saluted the Varleyswith a jovial cheer as they swept past at full speed.
Dick returned the cheer with compound interest, andcalling out, "They're trappers, mother; I'll be back in anhour," bounded off like a deer through the woods, takinga short cut in order to reach the block-house beforethem. He succeeded, for, just as he arrived at thehouse, the cavalcade wheeled round the bend in theriver, dashed up the slope, and came to a sudden halton the green. Vaulting from their foaming steeds theytied them to the stockades of the little fortress, whichthey entered in a body.
Hot haste was in every motion of these men. Theywere trappers, they said, on their way to the RockyMountains to hunt and trade furs. But one of theirnumber had been treacherously murdered and scalpedby a Pawnee chief, and they resolved to revenge hisdeath by an attack on one of the Pawnee villages. Theywould teach these "red reptiles" to respect white men,they would, come of it what might; and they hadturned aside here to procure an additional supply ofpowder and lead.
In vain did the major endeavour to dissuade thesereckless men from their purpose. They scoffed at theidea of returning good for evil, and insisted on beingsupplied. The log hut was a store as well as a place ofdefence, and as they offered to pay for it there was norefusing their request--at least so the major thought.
The ammunition was therefore given to them, and inhalf-an-hour they were away again at full gallop overthe plains on their mission of vengeance. "Vengeanceis mine; I will repay, saith the Lord." But these menknew not what God said, because they never read hisWord and did not own his sway.
Young Varley's enthusiasm was considerably dampedwhen he learned the errand on which the trappers werebent. From that time forward he gave up all desireto visit the mountains in company with such men, buthe still retained an intense longing to roam at largeamong their rocky fastnesses and gallop out upon thewide prairies.
Meanwhile he dutifully tended his mother's cattle andsheep, and contented himself with an occasional deer-huntin the neighbouring forests. He devoted himselfalso to the training of his dog Crusoe--an operationwhich at first cost him many a deep sigh.
Every one has heard of the sagacity and almost reasoningcapabilities of the Newfoundland dog. Indeed, somehave even gone the length of saying that what is calledinstinct in these animals is neither more nor less thanreason. And in truth many of the noble, heroic, andsagacious deeds that have actually been performed byNewfoundland dogs incline us almost to believe that,like man, they are gifted with reasoning powers.
But every one does not know the trouble and patiencethat is required in order to get a juvenile dog to understandwhat its master means when he is endeavouringto instruct it.
Crusoe's first lesson was an interesting but not a verysuccessful one. We may remark here that Dick Varleyhad presented Fan to his mother to be her watch-dog,resolving to devote all his powers to the training of thepup. We may also remark, in reference to Crusoe'sappearance (and we did not remark it sooner, chieflybecause up to this period in his eventful history he waslittle better than a ball of fat and hair), that his coatwas mingled jet-black and pure white, and remarkablyglossy, curly, and thick.
A week after the shooting-match Crusoe's educationbegan. Having fed him for that period with his ownhand, in order to gain his affection, Dick took him outone sunny forenoon to the margin of the lake to givehim his first lesson.
And here again we must pause to remark that,although a dog's heart is generally gained in the firstinstance through his mouth, yet, after it is thoroughlygained, his affection is noble and disinterested. He canscarcely be driven from his master's side by blows; andeven when thus harshly repelled, is always ready, on theshortest notice and with the slightest encouragement, tomake it up again.
Well; Dick Varley began by calling out, "Crusoe!
Crusoe! come here, pup."Of course Crusoe knew his name by this time, for ithad been so often used as a prelude to his meals thathe naturally expected a feed whenever he heard it.
This portal to his brain had already been open forsome days; but all the other doors were fast locked,and it required a great deal of careful picking to openthem.
"Now, Crusoe, come here."Crusoe bounded clumsily to his master's side, cockedhis ears, and wagged his tail,--so far his education wasperfect. We say he bounded clumsily, for it must beremembered that he was still a very young pup, withsoft, flabby muscles.
"Now, I'm goin' to begin yer edication, pup; thinko' that."Whether Crusoe thought of that or not we cannotsay, but he looked up in his master's face as he spoke,cocked his ears very high, and turned his head slowlyto one side, until it could not turn any farther in thatdirection; then he turned it as much to the other side;whereat his master burst into an uncontrollable fit oflaughter, and Crusoe immediately began barking vociferously.
"Come, come," said Dick, suddenly checking his mirth,"we mustn't play, pup, we must work."Drawing a leathern mitten from his belt, the youthheld it to Crusoe's nose, and then threw it a yard away,at the same time exclaiming in a loud, distinct tone,"Fetch it."Crusoe entered at once into the spirit of this part ofhis training; he dashed gleefully at the mitten, andproceeded to worry it with intense gratification. Asfor "Fetch it," he neither understood the words norcared a straw about them.
Dick Varley rose immediately, and rescuing themitten, resumed his seat on a rock.
"Come here, Crusoe," he repeated.
"Oh! certainly, by all means," said Crusoe--no! hedidn't exactly say it, but really he looked these wordssoevidently that we think it right to let them stand asthey are written. If he could have finished the sentence,he would certainly have said, "Go on with that gameover again, old boy; it's quite to my taste--the jolliestthing in life, I assure you!" At least, if we may notpositively assert that he would have said that, no oneelse can absolutely affirm that he wouldn't.
Well, Dick Varley did do it over again, and Crusoeworried the mitten over again, utterly regardless of"Fetch it."Then they did it again, and again, and again, butwithout the slightest apparent advancement in the pathof canine knowledge; and then they went home.
During all this trying operation Dick Varley neveronce betrayed the slightest feeling of irritability or impatience.
He did not expect success at first; he wasnot therefore disappointed at failure.
Next day he had him out again--and the next--andthe next--and the next again, with the like unfavourable result. Inshort,it seemed at last as if Crusoe'smind had been deeply imbued with the idea that hehad been born expressly for the purpose of worryingthat mitten, and he meant to fulfil his destiny to theletter.
Young Varley had taken several small pieces of meatin his pocket each day, with the intention of rewardingCrusoe when he should at length be prevailed on tofetch the mitten; but as Crusoe was not aware of thetreat that awaited him, of course the mitten never was"fetched."At last Dick Varley saw that this system would neverdo, so he changed his tactics, and the next morning gaveCrusoe no breakfast, but took him out at the usual hourto go through his lesson. This new course of conductseemed to perplex Crusoe not a little, for on his waydown to the beach he paused frequently and lookedback at the cottage, and then expressively up at hismaster's face. But the master was inexorable; he wenton, and Crusoe followed, for true love had now takenpossession of the pup's young heart, and he preferred hismaster's company to food.
Varley now began by letting the learner smell a pieceof meat, which he eagerly sought to devour, but wasprevented, to his immense disgust. Then the mittenwas thrown as heretofore, and Crusoe made a few stepstowards it, but being in no mood for play he turnedback.
"Fetch it," said the teacher.
"I won't," replied the learner mutely, by means ofthat expressive sign--not doing it.
Hereupon Dick Varley rose, took up the mitten, andput it into the pup's mouth. Then, retiring a couple ofyards, he held out the piece of meat and said, "Fetch it."Crusoe instantly spat out the glove and boundedtowards the meat--once more to be disappointed.
This was done a second time, and Crusoe came forwardwith the mitten in his mouth. It seemed as if ithad been done accidentally, for he dropped it beforecoming quite up. If so, it was a fortunate accident,for it served as the tiny fulcrum on which to place thepoint of that mighty lever which was destined ere longto raise him to the pinnacle of canine erudition. DickVarley immediately lavished upon him the tenderestcaresses and gave him a lump of meat. But he quicklytried it again lest he should lose the lesson. The dogevidently felt that if he did not fetch that mitten heshould have no meat or caresses. In order, however,to make sure that there was no mistake, Dick laid themitten down beside the pup, instead of putting it intohis mouth, and, retiring a few paces, cried, "Fetch it."Crusoe looked uncertain for a moment, then he pickedup the mitten and laid it at his master's feet. Thelesson was learned at last! Dick Varley tumbled allthe meat out of his pocket on the ground, and, whileCrusoe made a hearty breakfast, he sat down on a rockand whistled with glee at having fairly picked the lock,and opened another door into one of the many chambersof his dog's intellect.
CHAPTER IV.
 Our hero enlarged upon--Grumps.
Two years passed away. The Mustang Valley settlementadvanced prosperously, despite one or twoattacks made upon it by the savages, who were, however,firmly repelled. Dick Varley had now become a man,and his pup Crusoe had become a full-grown dog. The"silver rifle," as Dick's weapon had come to be named,was well known among the hunters and the Redskins ofthe border-lands, and in Dick's hands its bullets were asdeadly as its owner's eye was quick and true.
Crusoe's education, too, had been completed. Faithfullyand patiently had his young master trained hismind, until he fitted him to be a meet companion in thehunt. To "carry" and "fetch" were now but triflingportions of the dog's accomplishments. He could divea fathom deep in the lake and bring up any article thatmight have been dropped or thrown in. His swimmingpowers were marvellous, and so powerful were hismuscles that he seemed to spurn the water while passingthrough it, with his broad chest high out of thecurling wave, at a speed that neither man nor beastcould keep up with for a moment. His intellect nowwas sharp and quick as a needle; he never required asecond bidding. When Dick went out hunting, heused frequently to drop a mitten or a powder-horn unknownto the dog, and after walking miles away fromit, would stop short and look down into the mild, gentleface of his companion.
"Crusoe," he said, in the same quiet tones withwhich he would have addressed a human friend, "I'vedropped my mitten; go fetch it, pup." Dick continuedto call it "pup" from habit.
One glance of intelligence passed from Crusoe's eye,and in a moment he was away at full gallop, nor didhe rest until the lost article was lying at his master'sfeet. Dick was loath to try how far back on his trackCrusoe would run if desired. He had often gone backfive and six miles at a stretch; but his powers did notstop here. He could carry articles back to the spotfrom which they had been taken and leave them there.
He could head the game that his master was pursuingand turn it back; and he would guard any object hewas desired to "watch" with unflinching constancy.
But it would occupy too much space and time toenumerate all Crusoe's qualities and powers. Hisbiography will unfold them.
In personal appearance he was majestic, havinggrown to an immense size even for a Newfoundland.
Had his visage been at all wolfish in character, hisaspect would have been terrible. But he possessed inan eminent degree that mild, humble expression of facepeculiar to his race. When roused or excited, andespecially when bounding through the forest with thechase in view, he was absolutely magnificent. At othertimes his gait was slow, and he seemed to prefer a quietwalk with Dick Varley to anything else under the sun.
But when Dick was inclined to be boisterous, Crusoe'stail and ears rose at a moment's notice, and he wasready for anything. Moreover, he obeyed commandsinstantly and implicitly. In this respect he put toshame most of the boys of the settlement, who were byno means famed for their habits of prompt obedience.
Crusoe's eye was constantly watching the face of hismaster. When Dick said "Go" he went, when he said"Come" he came. If he had been in the midst of anexcited bound at the throat of a stag, and Dick hadcalled out, "Down, Crusoe," he would have sunk to theearth like a stone. No doubt it took many months oftraining to bring the dog to this state of perfection,but Dick accomplished it by patience, perseverance, andlove.
Besides all this, Crusoe could speak! He spoke bymeans of the dog's dumb alphabet in a way that defiesdescription. He conversed, so to speak, with his extremities--his headandhis tail. But his eyes, his softbrown eyes, were the chief medium of communication.
If ever the language of the eyes was carried to perfection,it was exhibited in the person of Crusoe. But,indeed, it would be difficult to say which part of his expressiveface expressed most--the cocked ears of expectation,the drooped ears of sorrow; the bright, full eyeof joy, the half-closed eye of contentment, and thefrowning eye of indignation accompanied with a slight,a very slight pucker of the nose and a gleam of dazzlingivory--ha! no enemy ever saw this last piece ofcanine language without a full appreciation of what itmeant. Then as to the tail--the modulations of meaningin the varied wag of that expressive member--oh!
it's useless to attempt description. Mortal man cannotconceive of the delicate shades of sentiment expressibleby a dog's tail, unless he has studied the subject--thewag, the waggle, the cock, the droop, the slope, thewriggle! Away with description--it is impotent andvalueless here!
As we have said, Crusoe was meek and mild. Hehad been bitten, on the sly, by half the ill-natured cursin the settlement, and had only shown his teeth in return.
He had no enmities--though several enemies--andhe had a thousand friends, particularly among theranks of the weak and the persecuted, whom he alwaysprotected and avenged when opportunity offered. Asingle instance of this kind will serve to show his character.
One day Dick and Crusoe were sitting on a rock besidethe lake--the same identical rock near which, whena pup, the latter had received his first lesson. Theywere conversing as usual, for Dick had elicited such afund of intelligence from the dog's mind, and had injectedsuch wealth of wisdom into it, that he felt convincedit understood every word he said.
"This is capital weather, Crusoe; ain't it, pup?"Crusoe made a motion with his head which wasquite as significant as a nod.
"Ha! my pup, I wish that you and I might go andhave a slap at the grizzly bars, and a look at the RockyMountains. Wouldn't it be nuts, pup?"Crusoe looked dubious.
"What, you don't agree with me! Now tell me,pup, wouldn't ye like to grip a bar?"Still Crusoe looked dubious, but made a gentle motionwith his tail, as though he would have said, "I've seenneither Rocky Mountains nor grizzly bars, and knownothin' about 'em, but I'm open to conviction.""You're a brave pup," rejoined Dick, stroking thedog's huge head affectionately. "I wouldn't give youfor ten times your weight in golden dollars--if therebe sich things."Crusoe made no reply whatever to this. He regardedit as a truism unworthy of notice; he evidently felt thata comparison between love and dollars was preposterous.
At this point in the conversation a little dog with alame leg hobbled to the edge of the rocks in front ofthe spot where Dick was seated, and looked down intothe water, which was deep there. Whether it did sofor the purpose of admiring its very plain visage in theliquid mirror, or finding out what was going on amongthe fish, we cannot say, as it never told us; but at thatmoment a big, clumsy, savage-looking dog rushed outfrom the neighbouring thicket and began to worry it.
"Punish him, Crusoe," said Dick quickly.
Crusoe made one bound that a lion might have beenproud of, and seizing the aggressor by the back, liftedhim off his legs and held him, howling, in the air--atthe same time casting a look towards his master forfurther instructions.
"Pitch him in," said Dick, making a sign with hishand.
Crusoe turned and quietly dropped the dog into thelake. Having regarded his struggles there for a fewmoments with grave severity of countenance, he walkedslowly back and sat down beside his master.
The little dog made good its retreat as fast as threelegs would carry it; and the surly dog, having swumashore, retired sulkily, with his tail very much betweenhis legs.
Little wonder, then, that Crusoe was beloved bygreat and small among the well-disposed of the caninetribe of the Mustang Valley.
But Crusoe was not a mere machine. When notactively engaged in Dick Varley's service, he busiedhimself with private little matters of his own. Heundertook modest little excursions into the woods oralong the margin of the lake, sometimes alone, butmore frequently with a little friend whose whole heartand being seemed to be swallowed up in admiration ofhis big companion. Whether Crusoe botanized orgeologized on these excursions we will not venture tosay. Assuredly he seemed as though he did both, forhe poked his nose into every bush and tuft of moss,and turned over the stones, and dug holes in the ground--and,in short, if he did not understand these sciences,he behaved very much as if he did. Certainly heknew as much about them as many of the humanspecies do.
In these walks he never took the slightest notice ofGrumps (that was the little dog's name), but Grumpsmade up for this by taking excessive notice of him.
When Crusoe stopped, Grumps stopped and sat downto look at him. When Crusoe trotted on, Grumpstrotted on too. When Crusoe examined a bush, Grumpssat down to watch him; and when he dug a hole,Grumps looked into it to see what was there. Grumpsnever helped him; his sole delight was in looking on.
They didn't converse much, these two dogs. To be ineach other's company seemed to be happiness enough--atleast Grumps thought so.
There was one point at which Grumps stopped short,however, and ceased to follow his friend, and that waswhen he rushed headlong into the lake and disportedhimself for an hour at a time in its cool waters. Crusoewas, both by nature and training, a splendid water-dog.
Grumps, on the contrary, held water in abhorrence; sohe sat on the shore of the lake disconsolate when hisfriend was bathing, and waited till he came out. Theonly time when Grumps was thoroughly nonplussedwas when Dick Varley's whistle sounded faintly in thefar distance. Then Crusoe would prick up his earsand stretch out at full gallop, clearing ditch, and fence,and brake with his strong elastic bound, and leavingGrumps to patter after him as fast as his four-inchlegs would carry him. Poor Grumps usually arrived atthe village to find both dog and master gone, and wouldbetake himself to his own dwelling, there to lie downand sleep, and dream, perchance, of rambles and gambolswith his gigantic friend.
CHAPTER V.
 A mission of peace--Unexpected joys--Dick and Crusoe set off forthe land of the Redskins, and meet with adventures by theway as a matter of course--Night in the wild woods.
One day the inhabitants of Mustang Valley werethrown into considerable excitement by thearrival of an officer of the United States army and asmall escort of cavalry. They went direct to the blockhouse,which, since Major Hope's departure, had becomethe residence of Joe Blunt--that worthy having, bygeneral consent, been deemed the fittest man in thesettlement to fill the major's place.
Soon it began to be noised abroad that the strangershad been sent by Government to endeavour to bringabout, if possible, a more friendly state of feeling betweenthe Whites and the Indians by means of presents,and promises, and fair speeches.
The party remained all night in the block-house, andere long it was reported that Joe Blunt had been requested,and had consented, to be the leader and chiefof a party of three men who should visit the neighbouringtribes of Indians to the west and north of thevalley as Government agents. Joe's knowledge of twoor three different Indian dialects, and his well-knownsagacity, rendered him a most fitting messenger on suchan errand. It was also whispered that Joe was to havethe choosing of his comrades in this mission, and manywere the opinions expressed and guesses made as to whowould be chosen.
That same evening Dick Varley was sitting in hismother's kitchen cleaning his rifle. His mother waspreparing supper, and talking quietly about the obstinacyof a particular hen that had taken to laying hereggs in places where they could not be found. Fanwas coiled up in a corner sound asleep, and Crusoe wassitting at one side of the fire looking on at things ingeneral.
"I wonder," remarked Mrs. Varley, as she spread thetable with a pure white napkin--"I wonder what thesodgers are doin' wi' Joe Blunt."As often happens when an individual is mentioned,the worthy referred to opened the door at that momentand stepped into the room.
"Good e'en t'ye, dame," said the stout hunter, doffinghis cap, and resting his rifle in a corner, while Dickrose 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 thesilver rifle for that.""To the hand that aimed it, rather," suggested thewidow.
"Nay, then, say raither to the dog that turned it,"said Dick Varley. "But for Crusoe, that buck wouldha' bin couched in the woods this night.""Oh! if it comes to that," retorted Joe, "I'd lay itto the door o' Fan, for if she'd niver bin born notherwould Crusoe. But it's good an' tender meat, whativerways ye got it. Howsiver, I've other things to talkabout jist now. Them sodgers that are eatin' buffalotongues up at the block-house as if they'd niver ate meatbefore, and didn't hope to eat again for a twelvemonth--""Ay, what o' them?" interrupted Mrs. Varley; "I'vebin wonderin' what was their errand.""Of coorse ye wos, Dame Varley, and I've comedhere a purpis to tell ye. They want me to go to theRedskins to make peace between them and us; andthey've brought a lot o' goods to make them presentswithal--beads, an' knives, an' lookin'-glasses, an' vermilionpaint, an' sich like, jist as much as'll be a lightload for one horse--for, ye see, nothin' can be done wi'
the Redskins without gifts.""'Tis a blessed mission," said the widow; "I wish itmay succeed. D'ye think ye'll go?""Go? ay, that will I.""I only wish they'd made the offer to me," said Dickwith a sigh.
"An' so they do make the offer, lad. They've ginme leave to choose the two men I'm to take with me,and I've corned straight to ask you. Ay or no, for wemust up an' away by break o' day to-morrow."Mrs. Varley started. "So soon?" she said, with alook of anxiety.
"Ay; the Pawnees are at the Yellow Creek jist atthis time, but I've heerd they're 'bout to break upcamp an' away west; so we'll need to use haste.""May I go, mother?" asked Dick, with a look ofanxiety.
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 comesoon, an' I thank him that your first visit to the Redskinswill be on an errand o' peace. 'Blessed are thepeace-makers: for they shall be called the children ofGod.'"Dick grasped his mother's hand and pressed it to hischeek in silence. At the same moment Crusoe, seeingthat the deeper feelings of his master were touched, anddeeming it his duty to sympathize, rose up and thrusthis nose against him.
"Ah, pup," cried the young man hastily, "you mustgo too.--Of course Crusoe goes, Joe Blunt?""Hum! I don't know that. There's no dependin' ona 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 inthe valley, but he's the truest, that's a fact. And now,youngster, get yer horse an' rifle ready, and come to theblock-house at daybreak to-morrow.--Good luck to ye,mistress, till we meet agin."Joe Blunt rose, and taking up his rifle--withoutwhich he scarcely ever moved a foot from his own door--leftthe cottage with rapid strides.
"My son," said Mrs. Varley, kissing Dick's cheek ashe resumed his seat, "put this in the little pocket Imade for it in your hunting-shirt."She handed him a small pocket Bible.
"Dear mother," he said, as he placed the book carefullywithin the breast of his coat, "the Redskin thattakes that from me must take my scalp first. Butdon't fear for me. You've often said the Lord wouldprotect me. So he will, mother, for sure it's an errando' peace.""Ay that's it, that's it," murmured the widow in ahalf-soliloquy.
Dick Varley spent that night in converse with hismother, and next morning at daybreak he was at theplace of meeting, mounted on his sturdy little horse,with the "silver rifle" on his shoulder and Crusoe byhis side.
"That's right, lad, that's right. Nothin' like keepin'
yer time," said Joe, as he led out a pack-horse from thegate of the block-house, while his own charger was heldready saddled by a man named Daniel Brand, who hadbeen appointed to the charge of the block-house in hisabsence.
"Where's Henri?--oh, here he comes!" exclaimedDick, as the hunter referred to came thundering upthe slope at a charge, on a horse that resembled itsrider in size and not a little in clumsiness of appearance.
"Ah! mes boy. Him is a goot one to go," criedHenri, remarking Dick's smile as he pulled up. "Nohoss on de plain can beat dis one, surement.""Now then, Henri, lend a hand to fix this pack; we'veno time to palaver."By this time they were joined by several of thesoldiers and a few hunters who had come to see themstart.
"Remember, Joe," said one, "if you don't come backin 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'sleft o' us won't be worth seekin' for," said Joe, tighteningthe girth of his saddle.
"Put a bit in yer own mouth, Henri," cried another,as the Canadian arranged his steed's bridle; "yell needit more than yer horse when ye git 'mong the redreptiles.""Vraiment, if mon mout' needs one bit, yours willneed one padlock.""Now, lads, mount!" cried Joe Blunt as he vaultedinto the saddle.
Dick Varley sprang lightly on his horse, and Henrimade a rush at his steed and hurled his huge frameacross its back with a violence that ought to havebrought it to the ground; but the tall, raw-boned, broad-chestedroan was accustomed to the eccentricities of itsmaster, and stood the shock bravely. Being appointedto lead the pack-horse, Henri seized its halter. Thenthe three cavaliers shook their reins, and, waving theirhands to their comrades, they sprang into the woods atfull 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 keepingclose beside his master's horse. The two elder huntersevidently ruminated on the object of their mission andthe prospects of success, for their countenances weregrave and their eyes cast on the ground. Dick Varley,too, thought upon the Red-men, but his musings weredeeply tinged with the bright hues of a first adventure.
The mountains, the plains, the Indians, the bears, thebuffaloes, and a thousand other objects, danced wildlybefore his mind's eye, and his blood careered throughhis veins and flushed his forehead as he thought ofwhat he should see and do, and felt the elastic vigourof youth respond in sympathy to the light spring ofhis active little steed. He was a lover of nature, too,and his flashing eyes glanced observantly from side toside as they swept along--sometimes through gladesof forest trees, sometimes through belts of more openground and shrubbery; anon by the margin of a streamor along the shores of a little lake, and often over shortstretches of flowering prairie-land--while the firm,elastic turf sent up a muffled sound from the tramp oftheir mettlesome chargers. It was a scene of wild,luxuriant beauty, that might almost (one could fancy)have drawn involuntary homage to its bountiful Creatorfrom the lips even of an infidel.
After a time Joe Blunt reined up, and they proceededat an easy ambling pace. Joe and his friend Henriwere so used to these beautiful scenes that they hadlong ceased to be enthusiastically affected by them,though they never ceased to delight in them.
"I hope," said Joe, "that them sodgers'll go theirways soon. I've no notion o' them chaps when they'releft at a place wi' nothin' to do but whittle sticks.""Why, Joe!" exclaimed Dick Varley in a tone ofsurprise, "I thought you were admirin' the beautifulface o' nature all this time, and ye're only thinkin' aboutthe sodgers. Now, that's strange!""Not so strange after all, lad," answered Joe. "Whena man's used to a thing, he gits to admire an' enjoy itwithout 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 thankfulI'm not used to this sort o' thing yet," exclaimedVarley. "Let's have another gallop--so ho! comealong, Crusoe!" shouted the youth as he shook his reinsand flew over a long stretch of prairie on which at thatmoment 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 doas ye're bid, lad. It's trouble enough to be among wildInjuns and wild buffaloes, as I hope soon to be, withouthavin' wild comrades to look after."Dick laughed, and reined in his panting horse. "I'llbe as obedient as Crusoe," he said, "and no one canbeat him.""Besides," continued Joe, "the horses won't travelfar if we begin by runnin' all the wind out o'
them.""Wah!" exclaimed Henri, as the led horse becamerestive; "I think we must give to him de pack-hoss forto lead, eh?""Not a bad notion, Henri. We'll make that thepenalty of runnin' off again; so look out, Master Dick.""I'm down," replied Dick, with a modest air, "obedientas a baby, and won't run off again--till--thenext time. By the way, Joe, how many days' provisionsdid ye bring?""Two. That's 'nough to carry us to the GreatPrairie, which is three weeks distant from this. Ourown good rifles must make up the difference, and keepus when we get there.""And s'pose we neither find deer nor buffalo," suggestedDick.
"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," saidDick; "but I s'pose there's little chance o' that.""Well, not much," replied Joe Blunt, patting hishorse's neck, "but d'ye see, lad, ye niver can count forsartin on anythin'. The deer and buffalo ought to bethick in them plains at this time--and when the buffaloare thick they covers the plains till ye can hardly seethe end o' them; but, ye see, sometimes the rascallyRedskins takes it into their heads to burn the prairies,and sometimes ye find the place that should ha' binblack 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 hoofthat don't git away. Sometimes, too, the animals seemsto take a scunner at a place, and keeps out o' the way.
But one way or another men gin' rally manage toscramble through.""Look yonder, Joe," exclaimed Dick, pointing to thesummit of a distant ridge, where a small black objectwas seen moving against the sky, "that's a deer, ain'tit?"Joe shaded his eyes with his hand, and gazed earnestlyat the object in question. "Ye're right, boy; and bygood luck we've got the wind of him. Cut in an' takeyour chance now. There's a long strip o' wood as'lllet ye git close to him."Before the sentence was well finished Dick andCrusoe were off at full gallop. For a few hundredyards they coursed along the bottom of a hollow; thenturning to the right they entered the strip of wood, andin a few minutes gained the edge of it. Here Dickdismounted.
"You can't help me here, Crusoe. Stay where youare, pup, and hold my horse."Crusoe seized the end of the line, which was fastenedto the horse's nose, in his mouth, and lay down ona hillock of moss, submissively placing his chin on hisforepaws, and watching his master as he stepped noiselesslythrough the wood. In a few minutes Dickemerged from among the trees, and creeping from bushto bush, succeeded in getting to within six hundredyards of the deer, which was a beautiful little antelope.
Beyond the bush behind which he now crouched all wasbare open ground, without a shrub or a hillock largeenough to conceal the hunter. There was a slight undulationin the ground, however, which enabled him toadvance about fifty yards farther, by means of lyingdown quite flat and working himself forward like a serpent.
Farther than this he could not move withoutbeing seen by the antelope, which browsed on the ridgebefore him in fancied security. The distance was toogreat even for a long shot; but Dick knew of a weakpoint in this little creature's nature which enabled himto accomplish his purpose--a weak point which it sharesin common with animals of a higher order--namely,curiosity.
The little antelope of the North American prairies isintensely curious about everything that it does notquite understand, and will not rest satisfied until it hasendeavoured to clear up the mystery. Availing himselfof this propensity, Dick did what both Indians andhunters are accustomed to do on these occasions--heput a piece of rag on the end of his ramrod, and keepinghis person concealed and perfectly still, waved thisminiature flag in the air. The antelope noticed it atonce, and, pricking up its ears, began to advance, timidlyand slowly, step by step, to see what remarkable phenomenonit could be. In a few seconds the flag waslowered, a sharp crack followed, and the antelope felldead 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 isstrongar dan yourn. But ver is your hoss?""He'll be here in a minute," replied Dick, putting hisfingers to his mouth and giving forth a shrill whistle.
The instant Crusoe heard the sound he made a savageand apparently uncalled-for dash at the horse's heels.
This wild act, so contrary to the dog's gentle nature, wasa mere piece of acting. He knew that the horse wouldnot advance without getting a fright, so he gave himone in this way, which sent him off at a gallop. Crusoefollowed close at his heels, so as to bring the line alongsideof the nag's body, and thereby prevent its gettingentangled; but despite his best efforts the horse got onone side of a tree and he on the other, so he wisely letgo his hold of the line, and waited till more open groundenabled him to catch it again. Then he hung heavilyback, gradually checked the horse's speed, and finallytrotted him up to his master's side.
"'Tis a cliver cur, good sooth," exclaimed Joe Bluntin surprise.
"Ah, Joe! you haven't seen much of Crusoe yet.
He's as good as a man any day. I've done little elsebut train him for two years gone by, and he can domost anything but shoot--he can't handle the riflenohow.""Ha! then, I tink perhaps hims could if he wos try,"said Henri, plunging on to his horse with a laugh, andarranging the carcass of the antelope across the pommelof his saddle.
Thus they hunted and galloped, and trotted andambled on through wood and plain all day, until thesun began to descend below the tree-tops of the bluffson the west. Then Joe Blunt looked about him for aplace on which to camp, and finally fixed on a spotunder the shadow of a noble birch by the margin of alittle stream. The carpet of grass on its banks was softlike green velvet, and the rippling waters of the brookwere clear as crystal--very different from the muddyMissouri into which it flowed.
While Dick Varley felled and cut up firewood, Henriunpacked the horses and turned them loose to graze,and Joe kindled the fire and prepared venison steaksand hot tea for supper.
In excursions of this kind it is customary to "hobble"the horses--that is, to tie their fore-legs together, sothat they cannot run either fast or far, but are freeenough to amble about with a clumsy sort of hop insearch of food. This is deemed a sufficient check ontheir tendency to roam, although some of the knowinghorses sometimes learn to hop so fast with their hobblesas to give their owners much trouble to recapture them.
But when out in the prairies where Indians are knownor supposed to be in the neighbourhood, the horses arepicketed by means of a pin or stake attached to theends of their long lariats, as well as hobbled; for Indiansdeem it no disgrace to steal or tell lies, thoughthey think it disgraceful to be found out in doing either.
And so expert are these dark-skinned natives of thewestern prairies, that they will creep into the midst ofan enemy's camp, cut the lariats and hobbles of severalhorses, spring suddenly on their backs, and gallop away.
They not only steal from white men, but tribes thatare at enmity steal from each other, and the boldnesswith which they do this is most remarkable. WhenIndians are travelling in a country where enemies areprowling, they guard their camps at night with jealouscare. The horses in particular are both hobbled andpicketed, and sentries are posted all round the camp.
Yet, in spite of these precautions, hostile Indians manageto elude the sentries and creep into the camp. When athief thus succeeds in effecting an entrance, his chiefdanger is past. He rises boldly to his feet, and wrappinghis blanket or buffalo robe round him, he walks upand down as if he were a member of the tribe. At thesame time he dexterously cuts the lariats of such horsesas he observes are not hobbled. He dare not stoop tocut the hobbles, as the action would be observed, andsuspicion would be instantly aroused. He then leapson the best horse he can find, and uttering a terrificwar-whoop darts away into the plains, driving the loosenedhorses before him.
No such dark thieves were supposed to be near thecamp under the birch-tree, however, so Joe, and Dick,and Henri ate their supper in comfort, and let theirhorses 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 surroundingdarkness for the special use of our hardy hunters.
Within this magic circle all was warm, comfortable, andcheery; outside all was dark, and cold, and dreary bycontrast.
When the substantial part of supper was disposed of,tea and pipes were introduced, and conversation beganto flow. Then the three saddles were placed in a row;each hunter wrapped himself in his blanket, and pillowinghis head on his saddle, stretched his feet towardsthe fire and went to sleep, with his loaded rifle by hisside and his hunting-knife handy in his belt. Crusoemounted guard by stretching himself out couchant atDick Varley's side. The faithful dog slept lightly, andnever moved all night; but had any one observed himclosely he would have seen that every fitful flame thatburst from the sinking fire, every unusual puff of wind,and every motion of the horses that fed or rested hardby, had the effect of revealing a speck of glitteringwhite in Crusoe's watchful eye.
CHAPTER VI.
 The great prairies of the far west--A remarkable colonydiscovered, and a miserable night endured.
Of all the hours of the night or day the hour thatsucceeds the dawn is the purest, the most joyous,and the best. At least so think we, and so think hundredsand thousands of the human family. And sothought Dick Varley, as he sprang suddenly into asitting posture next morning, and threw his arms withan exulting feeling of delight round the neck of Crusoe,who instantly sat up to greet him.
This was an unusual piece of enthusiasm on the partof Dick; but the dog received it with marked satisfaction,rubbed his big hairy cheek against that of hisyoung master, and arose from his sedentary position inorder to afford free scope for the use of his tail.
"Ho! Joe Blunt! Henri! Up, boys, up! The sunwill have the start o' us. I'll catch the nags."So saying Dick bounded away into the woods, withCrusoe gambolling joyously at his heels. Dick sooncaught his own horse, and Crusoe caught Joe's. Thenthe former mounted and quickly brought in the othertwo.
Returning to the camp he found everything packedand ready to strap on the back of the pack-horse.
"That's the way to do it, lad," cried Joe. "Here,Henri, look alive and git yer beast ready. I do believeye're goin' to take another snooze!"Henri was indeed, at that moment, indulging in agigantic stretch and a cavernous yawn; but he finishedboth hastily, and rushed at his poor horse as if he intendedto slay it on the spot. He only threw the saddleon its back, however, and then threw himself on thesaddle.
"Now then, all ready?""Ay"--"Oui, yis!"And away they went at full stretch again on theirjourney.
Thus day after day they travelled, and night afternight they laid them down to sleep under the trees ofthe forest, until at length they reached the edge of theGreat Prairie.
It was a great, a memorable day in the life of DickVarley, that on which he first beheld the prairie--thevast boundless prairie. He had heard of it, talked ofit, dreamed about it, but he had never--no, he hadnever realized it. 'Tis always thus. Our conceptionsof things that we have not seen are almost invariablywrong. Dick's eyes glittered, and his heart swelled, andhis cheeks flushed, and his breath came thick and quick.
"There it is," he gasped, as the great rolling plainbroke suddenly on his enraptured gaze; "that's it--oh!--"Dick uttered a yell that would have done credit tothe fiercest chief of the Pawnees, and being unable toutter another word, he swung his cap in the air andsprang like an arrow from a bow over the mighty oceanof grass. The sun had just risen to send a flood ofgolden glory over the scene, the horses were fresh, sothe elder hunters, gladdened by the beauty of all aroundthem, and inspired by the irresistible enthusiasm oftheir young companion, gave the reins to the horses andflew after him. It was a glorious gallop, that firstheadlong dash over the boundless prairie of the "farwest."The prairies have often been compared, most justly,to the ocean. There is the same wide circle of spacebounded on all sides by the horizon; there is the sameswell, or undulation, or succession of long low unbrokenwaves that marks the ocean when it is calm; they arecanopied by the same pure sky, and swept by the sameuntrammelled breezes. There are islands, too--clumpsof trees and willow-bushes--which rise out of thisgrassy ocean to break and relieve its uniformity; andthese vary in size and numbers as do the isles of ocean,being numerous in some places, while in others they areso scarce that the traveller does not meet one in a longday's journey. Thousands of beautiful flowers deckedthe greensward, and numbers of little birds hoppedabout among them.
"Now, lads," said Joe Blunt, reining up, "our troublesbegin to-day.""Our troubles?--our joys, you mean!" exclaimedDick Varley.
"P'r'aps I don't mean nothin' o' the sort," retortedJoe. "Man wos never intended to swaller his joyswithout a strong mixtur' o' troubles. I s'pose he couldn't stand 'empure.
Ye see we've got to the prairie now--""One blind hoss might see dat!" interrupted Henri.
"An' we may or may not diskiver buffalo. An'
water's scarce, too, so we'll need to look out for it prettysharp, I guess, else we'll lose our horses, in which casewe may as well give out at once. Besides, there'srattlesnakes about in sandy places, we'll ha' to look outfor them; an' there's badger holes, we'll need to looksharp for them lest the horses put their feet in 'em; an'
there's Injuns, who'll look out pretty sharp for us ifthey once get wind that we're in them parts.""Oui, yis, mes boys; and there's rain, and tunder, andlightin'," added Henri, pointing to a dark cloud whichwas seen rising on the horizon ahead of them.
"It'll be rain," remarked Joe; "but there's no thunderin the air jist now. We'll make for yonder clumpo' bushes and lay by till it's past."Turning a little to the right of the course they hadbeen following, the hunters galloped along one of thehollows between the prairie waves before mentioned, inthe direction of a clump of willows. Before reachingit, however, they passed over a bleak and barren plainwhere there was neither flower nor bird. Here theywere suddenly arrested by a most extraordinary sight--atleast it was so to Dick Varley, who had never seenthe like before. This was a colony of what Joe called"prairie-dogs." On first beholding them Crusoe uttereda sort of half growl, half bark of surprise, cocked histail and ears, and instantly prepared to charge; but heglanced up at his master first for permission. Observingthat his finger and his look commanded "silence," hedropped his tail at once and stepped to the rear. Hedid not, however, cease to regard the prairie-dogs withintense curiosity.
These remarkable little creatures have been egregiouslymisnamed by the hunters of the west, for theybear not the slightest resemblance to dogs, either in formationor habits. They are, in fact, the marmot, and insize are little larger than squirrels, which animals theyresemble in some degree. They burrow under the lightsoil, and throw it up in mounds like moles.
Thousands of them were running about among theirdwellings when Dick first beheld them; but the momentthey caught sight of the horsemen rising over the ridgethey set up a tremendous hubbub of consternation.
Each little beast instantly mounted guard on the top ofhis house, and prepared, as it were, "to receive cavalry."The most ludicrous thing about them was that, althoughthe most timid and cowardly creatures in theworld, they seemed the most impertinent things thatever lived! Knowing that their holes afforded them aperfectly safe retreat, they sat close beside them; and asthe hunters slowly approached, they elevated their heads,wagged their little tails, showed their teeth, and chatteredat them like monkeys. The nearer they came themore angry and furious did the prairie-dogs become,until Dick Varley almost fell off his horse with suppressedlaughter. They let the hunters come close up,waxing louder and louder in their wrath; but the instanta hand was raised to throw a stone or point agun, a thousand little heads dived into a thousand holes,and a thousand little tails wriggled for an instant inthe air--then a dead silence reigned over the desertedscene.
"Bien, them's have dive into de bo'-els of de eart',"said Henri with a broad grin.
Presently a thousand noses appeared, and nervouslydisappeared, like the wink of an eye. Then they appearedagain, and a thousand pair of eyes followed.
Instantly, like Jack in the box, they were all on the topof their hillocks again, chattering and wagging theirlittle tails as vigorously as ever. You could not saythat you saw them jump out of their holes. Suddenly,as if by magic, they were out; then Dick tossed up hisarms, and suddenly, as if by magic, they were gone!
Their number was incredible, and their cities werefull of riotous activity. What their occupations werethe hunters could not ascertain, but it was perfectlyevident that they visited a great deal and gossipedtremendously, for they ran about from house to house,and sat chatting in groups; but it was also observedthat they never went far from their own houses. Eachseemed to have a circle of acquaintance in the immediateneighbourhood of his own residence, to which in case ofsudden danger he always fled.
But another thing about these prairie-dogs (perhaps,considering their size, we should call them prairie-doggies), anotherthingabout them, we say, was thateach doggie lived with an owl, or, more correctly, anowl lived with each doggie! This is such an extraordinaryfact that we could scarce hope that men wouldbelieve us, were our statement not supported by dozensof trustworthy travellers who have visited and writtenabout these regions. The whole plain was covered withthese owls. Each hole seemed to be the residence of anowl and a doggie, and these incongruous couples livedtogether apparently in perfect harmony.
We have not been able to ascertain from travellerswhy the owls have gone to live with these doggies, sowe beg humbly to offer our own private opinion to thereader. We assume, then, that owls find it absolutelyneedful to have holes. Probably prairie-owls cannot digholes for themselves. Having discovered, however, arace of little creatures that could, they very likely determinedto take forcible possession of the holes madeby them. Finding, no doubt, that when they did sothe doggies were too timid to object, and discovering,moreover, that they were sweet, innocent little creatures,the owls resolved to take them into partnership,and so the thing was settled--that's how it came about,no doubt of it!
There is a report that rattlesnakes live in these holesalso; but we cannot certify our reader of the truth ofthis. Still it is well to be acquainted with a report thatis current among the men of the backwoods. If it betrue, we are of opinion that the doggie's family is themost miscellaneous and remarkable on the face of--or,as Henri said, in the bo'-els of the earth.
Dick and his friends were so deeply absorbed inwatching these curious little creatures that they did notobserve the rapid spread of the black clouds over thesky. A few heavy drops of rain now warned them toseek shelter, so wheeling round they dashed off at fullspeed for the clump of willows, which they gained justas the rain began to descend in torrents.
"Now, lads, do it slick. Off packs and saddles," criedJoe Blunt, jumping from his horse. "I'll make a hutfor ye, right off.""A hut, Joe! what sort o' hut can ye make here?"inquired Dick.
"Ye'll see, boy, in a minute.""Ach! lend me a hand here, Dick; de bockle amtight as de hoss's own skin. Ah! dere all right.""Hallo! what's this?" exclaimed Dick, as Crusoeadvanced with something in his mouth. "I declare, it'sa bird o' some sort.""A prairie-hen," remarked Joe, as Crusoe laid thebird at Dick's feet; "capital for supper.""Ah! dat chien is superb! goot dog. Come here, Ivill clap you."But Crusoe refused to be caressed. Meanwhile, Joeand Dick formed a sort of beehive-looking hut bybending down the stems of a tall bush and thrustingtheir points into the ground. Over this they threw thelargest buffalo robe, and placed another on the groundbelow it, on which they laid their packs of goods.
These they further secured against wet by placingseveral robes over them and a skin of parchment. Thenthey sat down on this pile to rest, and consider whatshould be done next.
"'Tis a bad look-out," said Joe, shaking his head.
"I fear it is," replied Dick in a melancholy tone.
Henri said nothing, but he sighed deeply on lookingup at the sky, which was now of a uniform watery gray,while black clouds drove athwart it. The rain waspouring in torrents, and the wind began to sweep it inbroad sheets over the plains, and under their slight covering,so that in a short time they were wet to the skin.
The horses stood meekly beside them, with their tailsand heads equally pendulous; and Crusoe sat before hismaster, looking at him with an expression that seemedto say, "Couldn't you put a stop to this if you were totry?""This'll never do. I'll try to git up a fire," saidDick, jumping up in desperation.
"Ye may save yerself the trouble," remarked Joedryly--at least as dryly as was possible in the circumstances.
However, Dick did try, but he failed signally. Everythingwas soaked and saturated. There were no largetrees; most of the bushes were green, and the dead oneswere soaked. The coverings were slobbery, the skinsthey sat on were slobbery, the earth itself was slobbery;so Dick threw his blanket (which was also slobbery)round his shoulders, and sat down beside his companionsto grin and bear it. As for Joe and Henri, they wereold hands and accustomed to such circumstances. Fromthe first they had resigned themselves to their fate, andwrapping their wet blankets round them sat down, sideby side, wisely to endure the evils that they could notcure.
There is an old rhyme, by whom composed we knownot, and it matters little, which runs thus,--/*"For every evil under the sunThere is a remedy--or there's none.
*//*If there is--try and find it;If there isn't--never mind it!"*/There is deep wisdom here in small compass. Theprinciple involved deserves to be heartily recommended.
Dick never heard of the lines, but he knew the principlewell, so he began to "never mind it" by sitting downbeside his companions and whistling vociferously. Asthe wind rendered this a difficult feat, he took to singinginstead. After that he said, "Let's eat a bite, Joe,and then go to bed.""Be all means," said Joe, who produced a mass ofdried deer's meat from a wallet.
"It's cold grub," said Dick, "and tough."But the hunters' teeth were sharp and strong, so theyate a hearty supper and washed it down with a drinkof rain water collected from a pool on the top of theirhut. They now tried to sleep, for the night was advancing,and it was so dark that they could scarce seetheir hands when held up before their faces. They satback to back, and thus, in the form of a tripod, beganto snooze. Joe's and Henri's seasoned frames wouldhave remained stiff as posts till morning; but Dick'sbody was young and pliant, so he hadn't been asleep afew seconds when he fell forward into the mud andeffectually awakened the others. Joe gave a grunt,and Henri exclaimed, "Hah!" but Dick was too sleepyand miserable to say anything. Crusoe, however, roseup to show his sympathy, and laid his wet head on hismaster's knee as he resumed his place. This catastrophehappened three times in the space of an hour, and bythe third time they were all awakened up so thoroughlythat they gave up the attempt to sleep, and amusedeach other by recounting their hunting experiences andtelling stories. So engrossed did they become that daybroke sooner than they had expected, and just in proportionas the gray light of dawn rose higher into theeastern sky did the spirits of these weary men risewithin their soaking bodies.
CHAPTER VII.
 The "wallering" peculiarities of buffalo bulls--The first buffalohunt and its consequences--Crusoe comes to the rescue--Pawneesdiscovered--A monster buffalo hunt--Joe acts the part of ambassador.
Fortunately the day that succeeded the drearynight described in the last chapter was warmand magnificent. The sun rose in a blaze of splendour,and filled the atmosphere with steam from the moistearth.
The unfortunates in the wet camp were not slow toavail themselves of his cheering rays. They hung upeverything on the bushes to dry, and by dint of extremepatience and cutting out the comparatively dry heartsof several pieces of wood, they lighted a fire and boiledsome rain-water, which was soon converted into soup.
This, and the exercise necessary for the performance ofthese several duties, warmed and partially dried them;so that when they once more mounted their steeds androde away, they were in a state of comparative comfortand in excellent spirits. The only annoyance was theclouds of mosquitoes and large flies that assailed menand horses whenever they checked their speed.
"I tell ye wot it is," said Joe Blunt, one fine morningabout a week after they had begun to cross the prairie,"it's my 'pinion that we'll come on buffaloes soon. Themtracks are fresh, an' yonder's one o' their wallers that'sbin used not long agone.""I'll go have a look at it," cried Dick, trotting awayas he spoke.
Everything in these vast prairies was new to DickVarley, and he was kept in a constant state of excitementduring the first week or two of his journey. Itis true he was quite familiar with the names and habitsof all the animals that dwelt there; for many a time andoft had he listened to the "yarns" of the hunters andtrappers of the Mustang Valley, when they returnedladen with rich furs from their periodical hunting expeditions.
But this knowledge of his only served towhet his curiosity and his desire to see the denizens ofthe prairies with his own eyes; and now that his wishwas accomplished, it greatly increased the pleasures ofhis journey.
Dick had just reached the "wallow" referred to byJoe Blunt, and had reined up his steed to observe itleisurely, when a faint hissing sound reached his ear.
Looking quickly back, he observed his two companionscrouching on the necks of their horses, and slowly descendinginto a hollow of the prairie in front of them,as if they wished to bring the rising ground betweenthem and some object in advance. Dick instantly followedtheir example, and was soon at their heels.
"Ye needn't look at the waller," whispered Joe, "fora' tother side o' the ridge there's a bull wallerin'.""Ye don't mean it!" exclaimed Dick, as they all dismountedand picketed their horses to the plain.
"Oui," said Henri, tumbling off his horse, while abroad grin overspread his good-natured countenance,"it is one fact! One buffalo bull be wollerin' like aenormerous hog. Also, dere be t'ousands o' buffaloesfarder on.""Can ye trust yer dog keepin' back?" inquired Joe,with a dubious glance at Crusoe.
"Trust him! Ay, I wish I was as sure o' myself.""Look to yer primin', then, an' we'll have tonguesand marrow bones for supper to-night, I'se warrant.
Hist! down on yer knees and go softly. We mightha' run them down on horseback, but it's bad to windyer beasts on a trip like this, if ye can help it; an' it'sabout as easy to stalk them. Leastways, we'll try.
Lift yer head slowly, Dick, an' don't show more nor thehalf o't above the ridge."Dick elevated his head as directed, and the scene thatmet his view was indeed well calculated to send anelectric shock to the heart of an ardent sportsman.
The vast plain beyond was absolutely blackened withcountless herds of buffaloes, which were browsing onthe rich grass. They were still so far distant that theirbellowing, and the trampling of their myriad hoofs, onlyreached the hunters like a faint murmur on the breeze.
In the immediate foreground, however, there was agroup of about half-a-dozen buffalo cows feeding quietly,and in the midst of them an enormous old bull wasenjoying himself in his wallow. The animals, towardswhich our hunters now crept with murderous intent,are the fiercest and the most ponderous of the ruminatinginhabitants of the western wilderness. The name ofbuffalo, however, is not correct. The animal is the bison,and bears no resemblance whatever to the buffalo proper;but as the hunters of the far west, and, indeed,travellers generally, have adopted the misnomer, we bowto the authority of custom and adopt it too.
Buffaloes roam in countless thousands all over theNorth American prairies, from the Hudson Bay Territories,north of Canada, to the shores of the Gulf ofMexico.
The advance of white men to the west has driventhem to the prairies between the Missouri and the RockyMountains, and has somewhat diminished their numbers;but even thus diminished, they are still innumerable inthe more distant plains. Their colour is dark brown,but it varies a good deal with the seasons. The hairor fur, from its great length in winter and spring andexposure to the weather, turns quite light; but whenthe winter coat is shed off, the new growth is a beautifuldark brown, almost approaching to jet-black. Inform the buffalo somewhat resembles the ox, but itshead and shoulders are much larger, and are coveredwith a profusion of long shaggy hair which adds greatlyto the fierce aspect of the animal. It has a large humpon the shoulder, and its fore-quarters are much larger,in proportion, than the hind-quarters. The horns areshort and thick, the hoofs are cloven, and the tail isshort, with a tuft of hair at the extremity.
It is scarcely possible to conceive a wilder or moreferocious and terrible monster than a buffalo bull. Heoften grows to the enormous weight of two thousandpounds. His lion-like mane falls in shaggy confusionquite over his head and shoulders, down to the ground.
When he is wounded he becomes imbued with the spiritof a tiger: he stamps, bellows, roars, and foams forthhis rage with glaring eyes and steaming nostrils, andcharges furiously at man and horse with utter recklessness.
Fortunately, however, he is not naturally pugnacious,and can be easily thrown into a sudden panic.
Moreover, the peculiar position of his eye renders thiscreature not so terrible as he would otherwise be to thehunter. Owing to the stiff structure of the neck, andthe sunken, downward-looking eyeball, the buffalo cannot,without an effort, see beyond the direct line ofvision presented to the habitual carriage of his head.
When, therefore, he is wounded, and charges, he does soin a straight line, so that his pursuer can leap easilyout of his way. The pace of the buffalo is clumsy, andapparently slow, yet, when chased, he dashes away overthe plains in blind blundering terror, at a rate thatleaves all but good horses far behind. He cannot keepthe pace up, however, and is usually soon overtaken.
Were the buffalo capable of the same alert and agilemotions of head and eye peculiar to the deer or wildhorse, in addition to his "bovine rage," he would be themost formidable brute on earth. There is no object,perhaps, so terrible as the headlong advance of a herdof these animals when thoroughly aroused by terror.
They care not for their necks. All danger in front isforgotten, or not seen, in the terror of that from whichthey fly. No thundering cataract is more tremendouslyirresistible than the black bellowing torrent which sometimespours through the narrow defiles of the RockyMountains, or sweeps like a roaring flood over thetrembling plains.
The wallowing, to which we have referred, is a luxuryusually indulged in during the hot months of summer,when the buffaloes are tormented by flies, and heat, anddrought. At this season they seek the low grounds inthe prairies where there is a little stagnant water lyingamongst the grass, and the ground underneath, beingsaturated, is soft. The leader of the herd, a shaggy oldbull, usually takes upon himself to prepare the wallow.
It was a rugged monster of the largest size that didso on the present occasion, to the intense delight ofDick Varley, who begged Joe to lie still and watch theoperation before trying to shoot one of the buffalocows. Joe consented with a nod, and the four spectators--forCrusoe was as much taken up with theproceedings as any of them--crouched in the grass, andlooked on.
Coming up to the swampy spot, the old bull gave agrunt of satisfaction, and going down on one knee,plunged his short thick horns into the mud, tore it up,and cast it aside. Having repeated this several times,he plunged his head in, and brought it forth saturatedwith dirty water and bedaubed with lumps of mud,through which his fierce eyes gazed, with a ludicrousexpression of astonishment, straight in the direction ofthe hunters, as if he meant to say, "I've done it thattime, and no mistake!" The other buffaloes seemed tothink so too, for they came up and looked on with anexpression that seemed to say, "Well done, old fellow;try that again!"The old fellow did try it again, and again, and again,plunging, and ramming, and tearing up the earth, untilhe formed an excavation large enough to contain hishuge body. In this bath he laid himself comfortablydown, and began to roll and wallow about until hemixed up a trough full of thin soft mud, whichcompletely covered him. When he came out of thehole there was scarcely an atom of his former selfvisible!
The coat of mud thus put on by bulls is usually permittedby them to dry, and is not finally got rid ofuntil long after, when oft-repeated rollings on the grassand washings by rain at length clear it away.
When the old bull vacated this delectable bath,another bull, scarcely if at all less ferocious-looking,stepped forward to take his turn; but he was interruptedby a volley from the hunters, which scatteredthe animals right and left, and sent the mighty herdsin the distance flying over the prairie in wild terror.
The very turmoil of their own mad flight added to theirpanic, and the continuous thunder of their hoofs washeard until the last of them disappeared on the horizon.
The family party which had been fired at, however, didnot escape so well, Joe's rifle wounded a fat youngcow, and Dick Varley brought it down. Henri haddone his best, but as the animals were too far distantfor his limited vision, he missed the cow he fired at, andhit the young bull whose bath had been interrupted.
The others scattered and fled.
"Well done, Dick," exclaimed Joe Blunt, as they allran up to the cow that had fallen. "Your first shot atthe buffalo was a good un. Come, now, an' I'll show yehow to cut it up an' carry off the tit-bits.""Ah, mon dear ole bull!" exclaimed Henri, gazingafter the animal which he had wounded, and which wasnow limping slowly away. "You is not worth goin'
after. Farewell--adieu.""He'll be tough enough, I warrant," said Joe; "an'
we've more meat here nor we can lift.""But wouldn't it be as well to put the poor bruteout o' pain?" suggested Dick.
"Oh, he'll die soon enough," replied Joe, tucking uphis sleeves and drawing his long hunting-knife.
Dick, however, was not satisfied with this way oflooking at it. Saying that he would be back in a fewminutes, he reloaded his rifle, and calling Crusoe to hisside, walked quickly after the wounded bull, which wasnow hid from view in a hollow of the plain.
In a few minutes he came in sight of it, and ranforward with his rifle in readiness.
"Down, Crusoe," he whispered; "wait for me here."Crusoe crouched in the grass instantly, and Dickadvanced. As he came on, the bull observed him, andturned round bellowing with rage and pain to receivehim. The aspect of the brute on a near view was soterrible that Dick involuntarily stopped too, and gazedwith a mingled feeling of wonder and awe, while itbristled with passion, and blood-streaked foam droppedfrom its open jaws, and its eyes glared furiously.
Seeing that Dick did not advance, the bull charged himwith a terrific roar; but the youth had firm nerves,and although the rush of such a savage creature at fullspeed was calculated to try the courage of any man,especially one who had never seen a buffalo bull before,Dick did not lose presence of mind. He rememberedthe many stories he had listened to of this very thingthat was now happening; so, crushing down his excitementas well as he could, he cocked his rifle andawaited the charge. He knew that it was of no use tofire at the head of the advancing foe, as the thicknessof the skull, together with the matted hair on the forehead,rendered it impervious to a bullet.
When the bull was within a yard of him he leapedlightly to one side and it passed. Just as it did so,Dick aimed at its heart and fired, but his knowledge ofthe creature's anatomy was not yet correct. The ballentered the shoulder too high, and the bull, checkinghimself as well as he could in his headlong rush, turnedround and made at Dick again.
The failure, coupled with the excitement, proved toomuch for Dick; he could not resist discharging hissecond barrel at the brute's head as it came on. Hemight as well have fired at a brick wall. It shook itsshaggy front, and with a hideous bellow thundered forward.
Again Dick sprang to one side, but in doing soa tuft of grass or a stone caught his foot, and he fellheavily to the ground.
Up to this point Crusoe's admirable training hadnailed him to the spot where he had been left, althoughthe twitching of every fibre in his body and a low continuouswhine showed how gladly he would have hailedpermission to join in the combat; but the instant hesaw his master down, and the buffalo turning to chargeagain, he sprang forward with a roar that would havedone credit to his bovine enemy, and seized him by thenose. So vigorous was the rush that he well-nighpulled the bull down on its side. One toss of its head,however, sent Crusoe high into the air; but it accomplishedthis feat at the expense of its nose, which wastorn and lacerated by the dog's teeth.
Scarcely had Crusoe touched the ground, which hedid with a sounding thump, than he sprang up andflew at his adversary again. This time, however, headopted the plan of barking furiously and biting byrapid yet terrible snaps as he found opportunity, thuskeeping the bull entirely engrossed, and affording Dickan opportunity of reloading his rifle, which he was notslow to do. Dick then stepped close up, and while thetwo combatants were roaring in each other's faces, heshot the buffalo through the heart. It fell to the earthwith a deep groan.
Crusoe's rage instantly vanished on beholding this,and he seemed to be filled with tumultuous joy at hismaster's escape, for he gambolled round him, and whinedand fawned upon him in a manner that could not bemisunderstood.
"Good dog; thank'ee, my pup," said Dick, pattingCrusoe's head as he stooped to brush the dust from hisleggings. "I don't know what would ha' become o' mebut for your help, Crusoe."Crusoe turned his head a little to one side, waggedhis tail, and looked at Dick with an expression thatsaid quite plainly, "I'd die for you, I would--notonce, or twice, but ten times, fifty times if need be--andthat not merely to save your life, but even toplease you."There is no doubt whatever that Crusoe felt somethingof this sort. The love of a Newfoundland dog toits master is beyond calculation or expression. He whoonce gains such love carries the dog's life in his hand.
But let him who reads note well, and remember thatthere is only one coin that can purchase such love, andthat is kindness. The coin, too, must be genuine. Kindnessmerely expressed will not do, it must be felt.
"Hallo, boy, ye've bin i' the wars!" exclaimed Joe,raising himself from his task as Dick and Crusoe returned.
"You look more like it than I do," retorted Dick,laughing.
This was true, for cutting up a buffalo carcass withno other instrument than a large knife is no easymatter. Yet western hunters and Indians can do itwithout cleaver or saw, in a way that would surprisea civilized butcher not a little. Joe was covered withblood up to the elbows. His hair, happening to havea knack of getting into his eyes, had been so oftenbrushed off with bloody hands, that his whole visagewas speckled with gore, and his dress was by no meansimmaculate.
While Dick related his adventure, or mis-adventure,with the bull, Joe and Henri completed the cutting outof the most delicate portions of the buffalo--namely,the hump on its shoulder--which is a choice piece,much finer than the best beef--and the tongue, anda few other parts. The tongues of buffaloes are superiorto those of domestic cattle. When all was readythe meat was slung across the back of the pack-horse;and the party, remounting their horses, continued theirjourney, having first cleansed themselves as well as theycould in the rather dirty waters of an old wallow.
"See," said Henri, turning to Dick and pointing to acircular spot of green as they rode along, "that is oneold dry waller.""Ay," remarked Joe; "after the waller dries, it becomesa ring o' greener grass than the rest o' the plain,as ye see. Tis said the first hunters used to wondergreatly at these myster'ous circles, and they inventedall sorts o' stories to account for 'em. Some said theywos fairy-rings, but at last they comed to know theywos nothin' more nor less than places where buffaloeswos used to waller in. It's often seemed to me that ifwe knowed the raisons o' things, we wouldn't be somuch puzzled wi' them as we are."The truth of this last remark was so self-evidentand incontrovertible that it elicited no reply, and thethree friends rode on for a considerable time in silence.
It was now past noon, and they were thinking ofcalling a halt for a short rest to the horses and a pipeto themselves, when Joe was heard to give vent to oneof those peculiar hisses that always accompanied eithera surprise or a caution. In the present case it indicatedboth.
"What now, Joe?""Injuns!" ejaculated Joe.
"Eh! fat you say? Ou is dey?"Crusoe at this moment uttered a low growl. Eversince the day he had been partially roasted he hadmaintained a rooted antipathy to Red-men. Joe immediatelydismounted, and placing his ear to the groundlistened intently. It is a curious fact that by placingthe ear close to the ground sounds can be heard distinctlywhich could not be heard at all if the listenerwere to maintain an erect position.
"They're arter the buffalo," said Joe, rising, "an' Ithink it's likely they're a band o' Pawnees. Listen an'
ye'll hear their shouts quite plain."Dick and Henri immediately lay down and placedtheir ears to the ground.
"Now, me hear noting," said Henri, jumping up, "butme ear is like me eyes--ver' short-sighted.""I do hear something," said Dick as he got up, "butthe beating o' my own heart makes row enough to spoilmy hearin'."Joe Blunt smiled. "Ah! lad, ye're young, an' yerblood's too hot yet; but bide a bit--you'll cool downsoon. I wos like you once. Now, lads, what thinkye we should do?""You know best, Joe.""Oui, nodoubtedly.'
"Then wot I advise is that we gallop to the brokensand hillocks ye see yonder, get behind them, an' takea peep at the Redskins. If they are Pawnees, we'll goup to them at once; if not, we'll hold a council o' waron the spot."Having arranged this, they mounted and hastenedtowards the hillocks in question, which they reachedafter ten minutes' gallop at full stretch. The sandymounds afforded them concealment, and enabled themto watch the proceedings of the savages in the plainbelow. The scene was the most curious and excitingthat can be conceived. The centre of the plain beforethem was crowded with hundreds of buffaloes, whichwere dashing about in the most frantic state of alarm.
To whatever point they galloped they were met byyelling savages on horseback, who could not havebeen fewer in numbers than a thousand, all beingarmed with lance, bow, and quiver, and mounted onactive little horses. The Indians had completely surroundedthe herd of buffaloes, and were now advancingsteadily towards them, gradually narrowing the circle,and whenever the terrified animals endeavoured tobreak through the line, they rushed to that particularspot in a body, and scared them back again into thecentre.
Thus they advanced until they closed in on theirprey and formed an unbroken circle round them, whilstthe poor brutes kept eddying and surging to and froin a confused mass, hooking and climbing upon eachother, and bellowing furiously. Suddenly the horsemenmade a rush, and the work of destruction began.
The tremendous turmoil raised a cloud of dust thatobscured the field in some places, and hid it from ourhunters' view. Some of the Indians galloped roundand round the circle, sending their arrows whizzing upto the feathers in the sides of the fattest cows. Othersdashed fearlessly into the midst of the black heavingmass, and, with their long lances, pierced dozens ofthem to the heart. In many instances the buffaloes,infuriated by wounds, turned fiercely on their assailantsand gored the horses to death, in which cases the menhad to trust to their nimble legs for safety. Sometimesa horse got jammed in the centre of the swayingmass, and could neither advance nor retreat. Thenthe savage rider leaped upon the buffaloes' backs, andspringing from one to another, like an acrobat, gainedthe outer edge of the circle; not failing, however, in hisstrange flight, to pierce with his lance several of thefattest of his stepping-stones as he sped along.
A few of the herd succeeded in escaping from theblood and dust of this desperate battle, and made offover the plains; but they were quickly overtaken, andthe lance or the arrow brought them down on the greenturf. Many of the dismounted riders were chased bybulls; but they stepped lightly to one side, and, as theanimals passed, drove their arrows deep into their sides.
Thus the tumultuous war went on, amid thunderingtread, and yell, and bellow, till the green plain wastransformed into a sea of blood and mire, and everybuffalo of the herd was laid low.
It is not to be supposed that such reckless warfareis invariably waged without damage to the savages.
Many were the wounds and bruises received that day,and not a few bones were broken, but happily no liveswere lost.
"Now, lads, now's our time. A bold and fearlesslook's the best at all times. Don't look as if yedoubted their friendship; and mind, wotever ye do,don't use yer arms. Follow me."Saying this, Joe Blunt leaped on his horse, and,bounding over the ridge at full speed, galloped headlongacross the plain.
The savages observed the strangers instantly, and aloud yell announced the fact as they assembled fromall parts of the field brandishing their bows and spears.
Joe's quick eye soon distinguished their chief, towardswhom he galloped, still at full speed, till within a yardor two of his horse's head; then he reined up suddenly.
So rapidly did Joe and his comrades approach, and soinstantaneously did they pull up, that their steeds werethrown almost on their haunches.
The Indian chief did not move a muscle. He wasa tall, powerful savage, almost naked, and mounted ona coal-black charger, which he sat with the ease of aman accustomed to ride from infancy. He was, indeed,a splendid-looking savage, but his face wore a darkfrown, for, although he and his band had visited thesettlements and trafficked with the fur-traders on theMissouri, he did not love the "Pale-faces," whom heregarded as intruders on the hunting-grounds of hisfathers, and the peace that existed between them atthat time was of a very fragile character. Indeed, itwas deemed by the traders impossible to travel throughthe Indian country at that period except in strong force,and it was the very boldness of the present attempt thatsecured to our hunters anything like a civil reception.
Joe, who could speak the Pawnee tongue fluently,began by explaining the object of his visit, and spokeof the presents which he had brought for the greatchief; but it was evident that his words made littleimpression. As he discoursed to them the savages crowded round thelittle party, and began to handle and examine their dresses andweapons with a degree of rudeness that caused Joe considerableanxiety.
"Mahtawa believes that the heart of the Pale-faceis true," said the savage, when Joe paused, "but hedoes not choose to make peace. The Pale-faces aregrasping. They never rest. They turn their eyes tothe great mountains and say, 'There we will stop.'
But even there they will not stop. They are neversatisfied; Mahtawa knows them well."This speech sank like a death-knell into the heartsof the hunters, for they knew that if the savages refusedto make peace, they would scalp them all and appropriatetheir goods. To make things worse, a dark-visagedIndian suddenly caught hold of Henri's rifle,and, ere he was aware, had plucked it from his hand.
The blood rushed to the gigantic hunter's forehead, andhe was on the point of springing at the man, when Joesaid in a deep quiet voice,--"Be still, Henri. You will but hasten death."At this moment there was a movement in the outskirtsof the circle of horsemen, and another chief rodeinto the midst of them. He was evidently higher inrank than Mahtawa, for he spoke authoritatively to thecrowd, and stepped in before him. The hunters drewlittle comfort from the appearance of his face, however,for it scowled upon them. He was not so powerfula man as Mahtawa, but he was more gracefullyformed, and had a more noble and commanding countenance.
"Have the Pale-faces no wigwams on the great riverthat they should come to spy out the lands of thePawnee?" he demanded.
"We have not come to spy your country," answeredJoe, raising himself proudly as he spoke, and taking offhis cap. "We have come with a message from the greatchief of the Pale-faces, who lives in the village farbeyond the great river where the sun rises. He says,Why should the Pale-face and the Red-man fight?
They are brothers. The same Manitou[*] watches overboth. The Pale-faces have more beads, and guns, andblankets, and knives, and vermilion than they require;they wish to give some of these things for the skinsand furs which the Red-man does not know what todo with. The great chief of the Pale-faces has sent meto say, Why should we fight? let us smoke the pipe ofpeace."At the mention of beads and blankets the face of thewily chief brightened for a moment. Then he saidsternly,--"The heart of the Pale-face is not true. He hascome here to trade for himself. San-it-sa-rish has eyesthat can see; they are not shut. Are not these yourgoods?" The chief pointed to the pack-horse as he spoke.
"Trappers do not take their goods into the heartof an enemy's camp," returned Joe. "San-it-sa-rish iswise, and will understand this. These are gifts to thechief of the Pawnees. There are more awaiting himwhen the pipe of peace is smoked. I have said. Whatmessage shall we take back to the great chief of thePale-faces?"[Footnote *: The Indian name for God.]
San-it-sa-rish was evidently mollified.
"The hunting-field is not the council tent," he said.
"The Pale-faces will go with us to our village."Of course Joe was too glad to agree to this proposal,but he now deemed it politic to display a little firmness.
"We cannot go till our rifle is restored. It will notdo to go back and tell the great chief of the Pale-facesthat the Pawnees are thieves."The chief frowned angrily.
"The Pawnees are true; they are not thieves. Theychoose to look at the rifle of the Pale-face. It shall bereturned."The rifle was instantly restored, and then our huntersrode off with the Indians towards their camp. On theway they met hundreds of women and children goingto the scene of the great hunt, for it was their specialduty to cut up the meat and carry it into camp. Themen, considering that they had done quite enough inkilling it, returned to smoke and eat away the fatiguesof the chase.
As they rode along, Dick Varley observed that someof the "braves," as Indian warriors are styled, wereeating pieces of the bloody livers of the buffaloes in araw state, at which he expressed not a little disgust.
"Ah, boy! you're green yet," remarked Joe Blunt inan undertone. "Mayhap ye'll be thankful to do thatsame yerself some day.""Well, I'll not refuse to try when it is needful," saidDick with a laugh; "meanwhile I'm content to see theRedskins do it, Joe Blunt."
CHAPTER VIII.
 Dick and his friends visit the Indians and see manywonders--Crusoe, too, experiences a few surprises, and teachesIndian dogs a lesson--An Indian dandy--A foot-race.
The Pawnee village, at which they soon arrived, wassituated in the midst of a most interesting andpicturesque scene.
It occupied an extensive plain which sloped gentlydown to a creek,[*] whose winding course was markedby a broken line of wood, here and there interspersedwith a fine clump of trees, between the trunks of whichthe blue waters of a lake sparkled in the distance.
Hundreds of tents or "lodges" of buffalo-skins coveredthe ground, and thousands of Indians--men, women,and children--moved about the busy scene. Somewere sitting in their lodges, lazily smoking their pipes.
But these were chiefly old and infirm veterans, for allthe young men had gone to the hunt which we have justdescribed. The women were stooping over their fires,busily preparing maize and meat for their husbandsand brothers; while myriads of little brown and nakedchildren romped about everywhere, filling the air withtheir yells and screams, which were only equalled, if notsurpassed, by the yelping dogs that seemed innumerable.
[Footnote *: In America small rivers or rivulets are termed "creeks."]
Far as the eye could reach were seen scattered herdsof horses. These were tended by little boys who weretotally destitute of clothing, and who seemed to enjoywith infinite zest the pastime of shooting-practice withlittle bows and arrows. No wonder that these Indiansbecome expert bowmen. There were urchins there,scarce two feet high, with round bullets of bodies andshort spindle-shanks, who could knock blackbirds offthe trees at every shot, and cut the heads off the tallerflowers with perfect certainty! There was much need,too, for the utmost proficiency they could attain, for thevery existence of the Indian tribes of the prairies dependson their success in hunting the buffalo.
There are hundreds and thousands of North Americansavages who would undoubtedly perish, and their tribesbecome extinct, if the buffaloes were to leave the prairiesor die out. Yet, although animals are absolutely essentialto their existence, they pursue and slay them withimprovident recklessness, sometimes killing hundreds ofthem merely for the sake of the sport, the tongues, andthe marrow bones. In the bloody hunt described in thelast chapter, however, the slaughter of so many was notwanton, because the village that had to be supplied withfood was large, and, just previous to the hunt, they hadbeen living on somewhat reduced allowance. Even theblackbirds shot by the brown-bodied urchins before mentionedhad been thankfully put into the pot. Thusprecarious is the supply of food among the Red-men,who on one day are starving, and the next are revellingin superabundance.
But to return to our story. At one end of this villagethe creek sprang over a ledge of rock in a low cascadeand opened out into a beautiful lake, the bosomof which was studded with small islands. Here werethousands of those smaller species of wild water-fowlwhich were either too brave or too foolish to be scaredaway by the noise of the camp. And here, too, dozensof children were sporting on the beach, or paddlingabout in their light bark canoes.
"Isn't it strange," remarked Dick to Henri, as theypassed among the tents towards the centre of the village--"isn'tit strange that them Injuns should be sofond o' fightin', when they've got all they can want--afine country, lots o' buffalo, an', as far as I can see,happy homes?""Oui, it is remarkaibel, vraiment. Bot dey do morelove war to peace. Dey loves to be excit-ed, I s'pose.""Humph! One would think the hunt we seed a littleagone would be excitement enough. But, I say, thatmust he the chiefs tent, by the look o't."Dick was right. The horsemen pulled up and dismountedopposite the principal chief's tent, which wasa larger and more elegant structure than the others.
Meanwhile an immense concourse of women, children,and dogs gathered round the strangers, and while thelatter yelped their dislike to white men, the formerchattered continuously, as they discussed the appearanceof the strangers and their errand, which latter soonbecame known. An end was put to this by San-it-sa-rishdesiring the hunters to enter the tent, and spreadinga buffalo robe for them to sit on. Two bravescarried in their packs, and then led away their horses.
All this time Crusoe had kept as close as possible tohis master's side, feeling extremely uncomfortable in themidst of such a strange crowd, the more especially thatthe ill-looking Indian curs gave him expressive looksof hatred, and exhibited some desire to rush upon himin a body, so that he had to keep a sharp look-outall round him. When therefore Dick entered the tent,Crusoe endeavoured to do so along with him; but hewas met by a blow on the nose from an old squaw, whoscolded him in a shrill voice and bade him begone.
Either our hero's knowledge of the Indian languagewas insufficient to enable him to understand the order,or he had resolved not to obey it, for instead of retreating,he drew a deep gurgling breath, curled his nose,and displayed a row of teeth that caused the old womanto draw back in alarm. Crusoe's was a forgiving spirit.
The instant that opposition ceased he forgot the injury,and was meekly advancing, when Dick held up hisfinger.
"Go outside, pup, and wait."Crusoe's tail drooped; with a deep sigh he turnedand left the tent. He took up a position near the entrance,however, and sat down resignedly. So meek,indeed, did the poor dog look that six mangy-lookingcurs felt their dastardly hearts emboldened to make arush at him with boisterous yells.
Crusoe did not rise. He did not even condescend toturn his head toward them; but he looked at them outof the corner of his dark eye, wrinkled--very slightly--theskin of his nose, exhibited two beautiful fangs,and gave utterance to a soft remark, that might be described as quiet,deep-toned gurgling. It wasn't much,but it was more than enough for the valiant six, whopaused and snarled violently.
It was a peculiar trait of Crusoe's gentle nature that,the moment any danger ceased, he resumed his expressionof nonchalant gravity. The expression on thisoccasion was misunderstood, however; and as about twodozen additional yelping dogs had joined the ranks ofthe enemy, they advanced in close order to the attack.
Crusoe still sat quiet, and kept his head high; but helooked at them again, and exhibited four fangs for theirinspection. Among the pack there was one Indian dogof large size--almost as large as Crusoe himself--whichkept well in the rear, and apparently urged the lesserdogs on. The little dogs didn't object, for little dogsare generally the most pugnacious. At this big dogCrusoe directed a pointed glance, but said nothing.
Meanwhile a particularly small and vicious cur, with amere rag of a tail, crept round by the back of the tent,and coming upon Crusoe in rear, snapped at his tailsharply, and then fled shrieking with terror and surprise,no doubt, at its own temerity.
Crusoe did not bark; he seldom barked; he usuallyeither said nothing, or gave utterance to a prolongedroar of indignation of the most terrible character, withbarks, as it were, mingled through it. It somewhatresembled that peculiar and well-known species of thunder,the prolonged roll of which is marked at shortintervals in its course by cannon-like cracks. It wasa continuous, but, so to speak, knotted roar.
On receiving the snap, Crusoe gave forth the roarwith a majesty and power that scattered the pugnaciousfront rank of the enemy to the winds. Those that stillremained, half stupified, he leaped over with a hugebound, and alighted, fangs first, on the back of the bigdog. There was one hideous yell, a muffled scramble ofan instant's duration, and the big dog lay dead uponthe plain!
It was an awful thing to do, but Crusoe evidentlyfelt that the peculiar circumstances of the case requiredthat an example should be made; and to say truth, allthings considered, we cannot blame him. The newsmust have been carried at once through the canine portionof the camp, for Crusoe was never interfered withagain after that.
Dick witnessed this little incident; but he observedthat the Indian chief cared not a straw about it, and ashis dog returned quietly and sat down in its old placehe took no notice of it either, but continued to listento the explanations which Joe gave to the chief, of thedesire of the Pale-faces to be friends with the Red-men.
Joe's eloquence would have done little for him onthis occasion had his hands been empty, but he followedit up by opening one of his packs and displaying theglittering contents before the equally glittering eyes ofthe chief and his squaws.
"These," said Joe, "are the gifts that the great chiefof the Pale-faces sends to the great chief of the Pawnees.
And he bids me say that there are many more things inhis stores which will be traded for skins with the Red-men,when they visit him; and he also says that if thePawnees will not steal horses any more from the Pale-faces, they shallreceive gifts of knives, and guns, andpowder, and blankets every year.""Wah!" grunted the chief; "it is good. The greatchief is wise. We will smoke the pipe of peace."The things that afforded so much satisfaction to San-it-sa-rishwere the veriest trifles. Penny looking-glassesin yellow gilt tin frames, beads of various colours, needles,cheap scissors and knives, vermilion paint, and coarsescarlet cloth, etc. They were of priceless value, however,in the estimation of the savages, who delighted toadorn themselves with leggings made from the cloth,beautifully worked with beads by their own ingeniouswomen. They were thankful, too, for knives even ofthe commonest description, having none but bone onesof their own; and they gloried in daubing their faceswith intermingled streaks of charcoal and vermilion.
To gaze at their visages, when thus treated, in the littlepenny looking-glasses is their summit of delight!
Joe presented the chief with a portion of these covetedgoods, and tied up the remainder. We may remarkhere that the only thing which prevented the savagesfrom taking possession of the whole at once, withoutasking permission, was the promise of the annual gifts,which they knew would not be forthcoming were anyevil to befall the deputies of the Pale-faces. Nevertheless,it cost them a severe struggle to restrain theirhands on this occasion, and Joe and his companions feltthat they would have to play their part well in orderto fulfil their mission with safety and credit.
"The Pale-faces may go now and talk with thebraves," said San-it-sa-rish, after carefully examiningeverything that was given to him; "a council will becalled soon, and we will smoke the pipe of peace."Accepting this permission to retire, the hunters immediatelyleft the tent; and being now at liberty to dowhat they pleased, they amused themselves by wanderingabout the village.
"He's a cute chap that," remarked Joe, with a sarcasticsmile; "I don't feel quite easy about gettin' away.
He'll bother the life out o' us to get all the goods we'vegot, and, ye see, as we've other tribes to visit, we mustgive away as little as we can here.""Ha! you is right," said Henri; "dat fellow's eyestwinkle at de knives and tings like two stars.""Fire-flies, ye should say. Stars are too soft an'
beautiful to compare to the eyes o' yon savage," saidDick, laughing. "I wish we were well away fromthem. That rascal Mahtawa is an ugly customer.""True, lad," returned Joe; "had he bin the greatchief our scalps had bin dryin' in the smoke o' a Pawneewigwam afore now. What now, lad?"Joe's question was put in consequence of a gleefulsmile that overspread the countenance of Dick Varley,who replied by pointing to a wigwam towards whichthey were approaching.
"Oh! that's only a dandy," exclaimed Joe. "There'slots o' them in every Injun camp. They're fit fornothin' but dress, poor contemptible critters."Joe accompanied his remark with a sneer, for of allpitiable objects he regarded an unmanly man as themost despicable. He consented, however, to sit downon a grassy bank and watch the proceedings of thisIndian dandy, who had just seated himself in front ofhis wigwam for the purpose of making his toilet.
He began it by greasing his whole person carefullyand smoothly over with buffalo fat, until he shone likea patent leather boot; then he rubbed himself almostdry, leaving the skin sleek and glossy. Having proceededthus far, he took up a small mirror, a few inchesin diameter, which he or some other member of the tribemust have procured during one of their few excursionsto the trading-forts of the Pale-faces, and examined himself,as well as he could, in so limited a space. Next,he took a little vermilion from a small parcel andrubbed it over his face until it presented the somewhatdemoniac appearance of a fiery red. He also drew abroad red score along the crown of his head, which wasclosely shaved, with the exception of the usual tuft orscalplock on the top. This scalplock stood bristlingstraight up a few inches, and then curved over andhung down his back about two feet. Immense care andattention was bestowed on this lock. He smoothed it,greased it, and plaited it into the form of a pigtail.
Another application was here made to the glass, and theresult was evidently satisfactory, to judge from thebeaming smile that played on his features. But, notcontent with the general effect, he tried the effect ofexpression--frownedportentously, scowled savagely, gapedhideously, and grinned horribly a ghastly smile.
Then our dandy fitted into his ears, which werebored in several places, sundry ornaments, such as rings,wampum, etc., and hung several strings of beads roundhis neck. Besides these he affixed one or two ornamentsto his arms, wrists, and ankles, and touched in afew effects with vermilion on the shoulders and breast.
After this, and a few more glances at the glass, he puton a pair of beautiful moccasins, which, besides beingrichly wrought with beads, were soft as chamois leatherand fitted his feet like gloves. A pair of leggings ofscarlet cloth were drawn on, attached to a waist-belt,and bound below the knee with broad garters of variegatedbead-work.
It was some time before this Adonis was quite satisfiedwith himself. He retouched the paint on his shouldersseveral times, and modified the glare of that on hiswide-mouthed, high-cheek-boned visage, before he couldtear himself away; but at last he did so, and throwinga large piece of scarlet cloth over his shoulders, he thrusthis looking-glass under his belt, and proceeded to mounthis palfrey, which was held in readiness near to thetent door by one of his wives. The horse was really afine animal, and seemed worthy of a more warlikemaster. His shoulders, too, were striped with red paint,and feathers were intertwined with his mane and tail, whilethe bridle was decorated with various jingling ornaments.
Vaulting upon his steed, with a large fan of wildgoose and turkey feathers in one hand, and a whipdangling at the wrist of the other, this incomparabledandy sallied forth for a promenade--that being hischief delight when there was no buffalo hunting to bedone. Other men who were not dandies sharpenedtheir knives, smoked, feasted, and mended their spearsand arrows at such seasons of leisure, or played atathletic games.
"Let's follow my buck," said Joe Blunt.
"Oui. Come 'long," replied Henri, striding after therider at a pace that almost compelled his comradesto run.
"Hold on!" cried Dick, laughing; "we don't wantto keep him company. A distant view is quite enougho' sich a chap as that.""Mais you forgit I cannot see far.""So much the better," remarked Joe; "it's myopinion we've seen enough o' him. Ah! he's goin' tolook on at the games. Them's worth lookin' at."The games to which Joe referred were taking placeon a green level plain close to the creek, and a littleabove the waterfall before referred to. Some of theIndians were horse-racing, some jumping, and otherswrestling; but the game which proved most attractivewas throwing the javelin, in which several of the youngbraves were engaged.
This game is played by two competitors, each armedwith a dart, in an arena about fifty yards long. Oneof the players has a hoop of six inches in diameter.
At a signal they start off on foot at full speed, and onreaching the middle of the arena the Indian with thehoop rolls it along before them, and each does his bestto send a javelin through the hoop before the other.
He who succeeds counts so many points; if both miss,the nearest to the hoop is allowed to count, but not somuch as if he had "ringed" it. The Indians are veryfond of this game, and will play at it under a broilingsun for hours together. But a good deal of the interestattaching to it is owing to the fact that they make it ameans of gambling. Indians are inveterate gamblers,and will sometimes go on until they lose horses, bows,blankets, robes, and, in short, their whole personalproperty. The consequences are, as might be expected,that fierce and bloody quarrels sometimes arise in whichlife is often lost.
"Try your hand at that," said Henri to Dick.
"By all means," cried Dick, handing his rifle to hisfriend, and springing into the ring enthusiastically.
A general shout of applause greeted the Pale-face,who threw off' his coat and tightened his belt, while, ayoung Indian presented him with a dart.
"Now, see that ye do us credit, lad," said Joe.
"I'll try," answered Dick.
In a moment they were off. The young Indianrolled away the hoop, and Dick threw his dart withsuch vigour that it went deep into the ground, butmissed the hoop by a foot at least. The young Indian'sfirst dart went through the centre.
"Ha!" exclaimed Joe Blunt to the Indians near him,"the lad's not used to that game; try him at a race.
Bring out your best brave--he whose bound is like thehunted deer."We need scarcely remind the reader that Joe spokein the Indian language, and that the above is a correctrendering of the sense of what he said.
The name of Tarwicadia, or the little chief, immediatelypassed from lip to lip, and in a few minutes anIndian, a little below the medium size, bounded intothe arena with an indiarubber-like elasticity that causeda shade of anxiety to pass over Joe's face.
"Ah, boy!" he whispered, "I'm afeard you'll findhim a tough customer.""That's just what I want," replied Dick. "He'ssupple enough, but he wants muscle in the thigh.
We'll make it a long heat.""Right, lad, ye're right."Joe now proceeded to arrange the conditions of therace with the chiefs around him. It was fixed that thedistance to be run should be a mile, so that the racewould be one of two miles, out and back. Moreover,the competitors were to run without any clothes, excepta belt and a small piece of cloth round the loins. Thisto the Indians was nothing, for they seldom wore morein warm weather; but Dick would have preferred tokeep on part of his dress. The laws of the course,however, would not permit of this, so he stripped andstood forth, the beau-ideal of a well-formed, agile man.
He was greatly superior in size to his antagonist, andmore muscular, the savage being slender and extremelylithe and springy.
"Ha! I will run too," shouted Henri, bouncing forwardwith clumsy energy, and throwing off his coatjust as they were going to start.
The savages smiled at this unexpected burst, andmade no objection, considering the thing in the light ofa joke.
The signal was given, and away they went. Oh! itwould have done you good to have seen the way inwhich Henri manoeuvred his limbs on this celebratedoccasion! He went over the ground with huge elephantinebounds, runs, and jumps. He could not have beensaid to have one style of running; he had a dozenstyles, all of which came into play in the course of halfas many minutes. The other two ran like the wind;yet although Henri appeared to be going heavily overthe ground, he kept up with them to the turning-point.
As for Dick, it became evident in the first few minutesthat he could outstrip his antagonist with ease, andwas hanging back a little all the time. He shot aheadlike an arrow when they came about half-way back,and it was clear that the real interest of the race wasto lie in the competition between Henri and Tarwicadia.
Before they were two-thirds of the way back, Dickwalked in to the winning-point, and turned to watchthe others. Henri's wind was about gone, for he exertedhimself with such violence that he wasted halfhis strength. The Indian, on the contrary, was comparativelyfresh, but he was not so fleet as his antagonist,whose tremendous strides carried him over theground at an incredible pace. On they came neck andneck, till close on the score that marked the winning-point.
Here the value of enthusiasm came out stronglyin the case of Henri. He felt that he could not gainan inch on Tarwicadia to save his life, but just as hecame up he observed the anxious faces of his comradesand the half-sneering countenances of the savages. Hisheart thumped against his ribs, every muscle thrilledwith a gush of conflicting feelings, and he hurled himselfover the score like a cannon shot, full six inchesahead of the little chief!
But the thing did not by any means end here. Tarwicadiapulled up the instant he had passed. Not soour Canadian. Such a clumsy and colossal frame wasnot to be checked in a moment. The crowd of Indiansopened up to let him pass, but unfortunately a smalltent that stood in the way was not so obliging. Intoit he went, head foremost, like a shell, carried away thecorner post with his shoulder, and brought the wholeaffair down about his own ears and those of its inmates,among whom were several children and two or threedogs. It required some time to extricate them all fromthe ruins, but when this was effected it was found thatno serious damage had been done to life or limb.
CHAPTER IX.
 Crusoe acts a conspicuous and humane part--A friendgained--A great feast.
When the foot-race was concluded the threehunters hung about looking on at the variousgames for some time, and then strolled towards the lake.
"Ye may be thankful yer neck's whole," said Joe,grinning, as Henri rubbed his shoulder with a ruefullook. "An' we'll have to send that Injun and his familya knife and some beads to make up for the fright theygot.""Ha! an' fat is to be give to me for my brokeshoulder?""Credit, man, credit," said Dick Varley, laughing.
"Credit! fat is dat?""Honour and glory, lad, and the praises of themsavages.""Ha! de praise? more probeebale de ill-vill of derascale. I seed dem scowl at me not ver' pritty.""That's true, Henri; but sich as it is it's all ye'll git.""I vish," remarked Henri after a pause--"I vish Icould git de vampum belt de leetle chief had on. Itvas superb. Fat place do vampums come from?""They're shells--""Oui," interrupted Henri; "I know fat dey is. Deyis shells, and de Injuns tink dem goot monish, mais Iask you fat place de come from.""They are thought to be gathered on the shores o'
the Pacific," said Joe. "The Injuns on the west o' theRocky Mountains picks them up and exchanges themwi' the fellows hereaway for horses and skins--so I'mtold."At this moment there was a wild cry of terror hearda short distance ahead of them. Rushing forward theyobserved an Indian woman flying frantically down theriver's bank towards the waterfall, a hundred yardsabove which an object was seen struggling in the water.
"'Tis her child," cried Joe, as the mother's frantic cryreached his ear. "It'll be over the fall in a minute!
Run, Dick, you're quickest."They had all started forward at speed, but Dick andCrusoe were far ahead, and abreast of the spot in a fewseconds.
"Save it, pup," cried Dick, pointing to the child,which had been caught in an eddy, and was for a fewmoments hovering on the edge of the stream that rushedimpetuously towards the fall.
The noble Newfoundland did not require to be toldwhat to do. It seems a natural instinct in this sagaciousspecies of dog to save man or beast that chancesto be struggling in the water, and many are the authenticstories related of Newfoundland dogs saving life in casesof shipwreck. Indeed, they are regularly trained to thework in some countries; and nobly, fearlessly, disinterestedlydo they discharge their trust, often in the midstof appalling dangers. Crusoe sprang from the bankwith such impetus that his broad chest ploughed up thewater like the bow of a boat, and the energetic workingsof his muscles were indicated by the force of eachsuccessive propulsion as he shot ahead.
In a few seconds he reached the child and caught itby the hair. Then he turned to swim back, but thestream had got hold of him. Bravely he struggled, andlifted the child breast-high out of the water in hispowerful efforts to stem the current. In vain. Eachmoment he was carried inch by inch down until he wason the brink of the fall, which, though not high, was alarge body of water and fell with a heavy roar. Heraised himself high out of the stream with the vigour ofhis last struggle, and then fell back into the abyss.
By this time the poor mother was in a canoe as closeto the fall as she could with safety approach, and thelittle bark danced like a cockle-shell on the turmoil ofwaters as she stood with uplifted paddle and staringeyeballs awaiting the rising of the child.
Crusoe came up almost instantly, but alone, for thedash over the fall had wrenched the child from his teeth.
He raised himself high up, and looked anxiously roundfor a moment. Then he caught sight of a little handraised above the boiling flood. In one moment he hadthe child again by the hair, and just as the prow of theIndian woman's canoe touched the shore he brought thechild to land.
Springing towards him, the mother snatched her childfrom the flood, and gazed at its death-like face with eyeballsstarting from their sockets. Then she laid hercheek on its cold breast, and stood like a statue of despair.
There was one slight pulsation of the heart anda gentle motion of the hand! The child still lived.
Opening up her blanket she laid her little one againsther naked, warm bosom, drew the covering close aroundit, and sitting down on the bank wept aloud for joy.
"Come--come 'way quick," cried Henri, hurrying offto hide the emotion which he could not crush down.
"Ay, she don't need our help now," said Joe, followinghis comrade.
As for Crusoe, he walked along by his master's sidewith his usual quiet, serene look of good-will towards allmankind. Doubtless a feeling of gladness at havingsaved a human life filled his shaggy breast, for he waggedhis tail gently after each shake of his dripping sides;but his meek eyes were downcast, save when raised toreceive the welcome and unusually fervent caress. Crusoedid not know that those three men loved him asthough he had been a brother.
On their way back to the village the hunters weremet by a little boy, who said that a council was to beheld immediately, and their presence was requested.
The council was held in the tent of the principalchief, towards which all the other chiefs and many ofthe noted braves hurried. Like all Indian councils, itwas preceded by smoking the "medicine pipe," and wasfollowed by speeches from several of the best orators.
The substance of the discourse differed little from whathas been already related in reference to the treaty betweenthe Pale-faces, and upon the whole it was satisfactory.
But Joe Blunt could not fail to notice thatMahtawa maintained sullen silence during the wholecourse of the meeting.
He observed also that there was a considerable changein the tone of the meeting when he informed them thathe was bound on a similar errand of peace to several ofthe other tribes, especially to one or two tribes whichwere the Pawnees' bitter enemies at that time. Thesegrasping savages having quite made up their minds thatthey were to obtain the entire contents of the two balesof goods, were much mortified on hearing that part wasto go to other Indian tribes. Some of them even hintedthat this would not be allowed, and Joe feared at onetime that things were going to take an unfavourableturn. The hair of his scalp, as he afterwards said,"began to lift a little and feel oneasy." But San-it-sa-rishstood honestly to his word, said that it would bewell that the Pale-faces and the Pawnees should bebrothers, and hoped that they would not forget thepromise of annual presents from the hand of the greatchief who lived in the big village near the rising sun.
Having settled this matter amicably, Joe distributedamong the Indians the proportion of his goods designedfor them; and then they all adjourned to another tent,where a great feast was prepared for them.
"Are ye hungry?" inquired Joe of Dick as theywalked along.
"Ay, that am I. I feel as if I could eat a buffaloalive. Why, it's my 'pinion we've tasted nothin' sincedaybreak-this mornin'.""Well, I've often told ye that them Redskins thinkit a disgrace to give in eatin' till all that's set beforethem at a feast is bolted. We'll ha' to stretch oursel's,we will.""I'se got a plenty room," remarked Henri.
"Ye have, but ye'll wish ye had more in a little.""Bien, I not care!"In quarter of an hour all the guests invited to thisgreat "medicine feast" were assembled. No women wereadmitted. They never are at Indian feasts.
We may remark in passing that the word "medicine,"as used among the North American Indians, has a verymuch wider signification than it has with us. It is analmost inexplicable word. When asked, they cannotgive a full or satisfactory explanation of it themselves.
In the general, we may say that whatever is mysteriousis "medicine." Jugglery and conjuring, of a noisy,mysterious, and, we must add, rather silly nature, is"medicine," and the juggler is a "medicine man." Thesemedicine men undertake cures; but they are regularcharlatans, and know nothing whatever of the diseasesthey pretend to cure or their remedies. They carrybags containing sundry relics; these are "medicine bags."Every brave has his own private medicine bag. Everythingthat is incomprehensible, or supposed to be supernatural,religious, or medical, is "medicine." This feast,being an unusual one, in honour of strangers, and inconnection with a peculiar and unexpected event, was"medicine." Even Crusoe, since his gallant conduct insaving the Indian child, was "medicine;" and DickVarley's double-barrelled rifle, which had been an objectof wonder ever since his arrival at the village, wastremendous "medicine!"Of course the Indians were arrayed in their best.
Several wore necklaces of the claws of the grizzly bear,of which they are extremely proud; and a gaudily picturesquegroup they were. The chief, however, hadundergone a transformation that well-nigh upset thegravity of our hunters, and rendered Dick's efforts tolook solemn quite abortive. San-it-sa-rish had once beento the trading-forts of the Pale-faces, and while therehad received the customary gift of a blue surtout withbrass buttons, and an ordinary hat, such as gentlemenwear at home. As the coat was a good deal too smallfor him, a terrible length of dark, bony wrist appearedbelow the cuffs. The waist was too high, and it waswith great difficulty that he managed to button thegarment across his broad chest. Being ignorant of thenature of a hat, the worthy savage had allowed thepaper and string with which it had been originallycovered to remain on, supposing them to be part andparcel of the hat; and this, together with the high collarof the coat, which gave him a crushed-up appearance,the long black naked legs, and the painted visage, gaveto him a tout ensemble which we can compare to nothing,as there was nothing in nature comparable to it.
Those guests who assembled first passed their time insmoking the medicine pipe until the others should arrive,for so long as a single invited guest is absent the feastcannot begin. Dignified silence was maintained whilethe pipe thus circulated from hand to hand. When thelast guest arrived they began.
The men were seated in two rows, face to face.
Feasts of this kind usually consist of but one species offood, and on the present occasion it was an enormouscaldron full of maize which had to be devoured. Aboutfifty sat down to eat a quantity of what may be termedthick porridge that would have been ample allowancefor a hundred ordinary men. Before commencing, San-it-sa-rishdesired an aged medicine man to make an oration,which he did fluently and poetically. Its subjectwas the praise of the giver of the feast. At the end ofeach period there was a general "hou! hou!" of assent--equivalentto the "hear! hear!" of civilized men.
Other orators then followed, all of whom spoke withgreat ease and fluency, and some in the most impassionedstrains, working themselves and their audience up to thehighest pitch of excitement, now shouting with frenziedviolence till their eyes glared from their sockets and theveins of their foreheads swelled almost to bursting asthey spoke of war and chase, anon breaking into softmodulated and pleasing tones while they dilated uponthe pleasures of peace and hospitality.
After these had finished, a number of wooden bowlsfull of maize porridge were put down between the guests--onebowl to each couple facing each other. But beforecommencing a portion was laid aside and dedicated totheir gods, with various mysterious ceremonies; for here,as in other places where the gospel is not known, thepoor savages fancied that they could propitiate God withsacrifices. They had never heard of the "sacrifice of abroken spirit and a contrite heart." This offering beingmade, the feast began in earnest. Not only was it arule in this feast that every mouthful should be swallowedby each guest, however unwilling and unable heshould be to do so, but he who could dispose of it withgreatest speed was deemed the greatest man--at leaston that occasion--while the last to conclude his supperwas looked upon with some degree of contempt!
It seems strange that such a custom should ever havearisen, and one is not a little puzzled in endeavouringto guess at the origin of it. There is one fact thatoccurs to us as the probable cause. The Indian is, aswe have before hinted, frequently reduced to a statebordering on starvation, and in a day after he may beburdened with superabundance of food. He oftentimestherefore eats as much as he can stuff into his bodywhen he is blessed with plenty, so as to be the betterable to withstand the attacks of hunger that may possiblybe in store for him. The amount that an Indianwill thus eat at a single meal is incredible. He seemsto have the power of distending himself for the receptionof a quantity that would kill a civilized man.
Children in particular become like tightly inflated littleballoons after a feast, and as they wear no clothing, theextraordinary rotundity is very obvious, not to sayridiculous. We conclude therefore that unusual powersof gormandizing, being useful, come at last to be cultivatedas praiseworthy.
By good fortune Dick and Joe Blunt happened tohave such enormous gluttons as vis-à-vis that the portionsof their respective bowls which they could notdevour were gobbled up for them. By good capacityand digestion, with no small amount of effort, Henrimanaged to dispose of his own share; but he was last ofbeing done, and fell in the savages' esteem greatly. Theway in which that sticky compost of boiled maize wentdown was absolutely amazing. The man opposite Dick,in particular, was a human boa-constrictor. He well-nighsuffocated Dick with suppressed laughter. He wasa great raw-boned savage, with a throat of indiarubber,and went quickly and quietly on swallowing mass aftermass with the solemn gravity of an owl. It matterednot a straw to him that Dick took comparatively smallmouthfuls, and nearly choked on them too for want ofliquid to wash them down. Had Dick eaten none at allhe would have uncomplainingly disposed of the whole.
Jack the Giant-Killer's feats were nothing to his; andwhen at last the bowl was empty, he stopped short likea machine from which the steam had been suddenly cutoff, and laid down his buffalo horn-spoon without a sigh.
Dick sighed, though with relief and gratitude, whenhis bowl was empty.
"I hope I may never have to do it again," said Joethat night as they wended their way back to the chief'stent after supper. "I wouldn't be fit for anything fora week arter it."Dick could only laugh, for any allusion to the feastinstantly brought back that owl-like gourmand to whomhe was so deeply indebted.
Henri groaned. "Oh! mes boy, I am speechless! Iam ready for bust! Oui--hah! I veesh it vas to-morrow."Many a time that night did Henri "veesh it vas to-morrow,"as he lay helpless on his back, looking upthrough the roof of the chief's tent at the stars, andlistening enviously to the plethoric snoring of Joe Blunt.
He was entertained, however, during those wakinghours with a serenade such as few civilized ears everlisten to. This was nothing else than a vocal concertperformed by all the dogs of the village, and as theyamounted to nearly two thousand the orchestra was apretty full one.
These wretches howled as if they had all gone mad.
Yet there was "method in their madness;" for they congregatedin a crowd before beginning, and sat down ontheir haunches. Then one, which seemed to be the conductor,raised his snout to the sky and uttered a long,low, melancholy wail. The others took it up by twosand threes, until the whole pack had their noses pointingto the stars and their throats distended to the uttermost,while a prolonged yell filled the air. Then it sankgradually, one or two (bad performers probably) makinga yelping attempt to get it up again at the wrong time.
Again the conductor raised his nose, and out it came--fullswing. There was no vociferous barking. It wassimple wolfish howling increased in fervour to an electricyell, with slight barks running continuously through itlike an obbligato accompaniment.
When Crusoe first heard the unwonted sound hesprang to his feet, bristled up like a hyena, showed allhis teeth, and bounded out of the tent blazing with indignationand astonishment. When he found out whatit was he returned quite sleek, and with a look of profoundcontempt on his countenance as he resumed hisplace by his master's side and went to sleep.
CHAPTER X.
 Perplexities--Our hunters plan theirescape--Unexpected interruption--The tablesturned--Crusoe mounts guard--The escape.
Dick Varley sat before the fire ruminating. Wedo not mean to assert that Dick had been previouslyeating grass. By no means. For several dayspast he had been mentally subsisting on the remarkablethings that he heard and saw in the Pawnee village,and wondering how he was to get away without beingscalped. He was now chewing the cud of this intellectualfare. We therefore repeat emphatically--in case anyreader should have presumed to contradict us--thatDick Varley sat before the fire ruminating!
Joe Blunt likewise sat by the fire along with him,ruminating too, and smoking besides. Henri also satthere smoking, and looking a little the worse of hislate supper.
"I don't like the look o' things," said Joe, blowinga whiff of smoke slowly from his lips, and watching itas it ascended into the still air. "That blackguardMahtawa is determined not to let us off till he gits allour goods; an' if he gits them, he may as well take ourscalps too, for we would come poor speed in the prairieswithout guns, horses, or goods."Dick looked at his friend with an expression of concern.
"What's to be done?" said he.
"Ve must escape," answered Henri; but his tone wasnot a hopeful one, for he knew the danger of theirposition better than Dick.
"Ay, we must escape--at least we must try," saidJoe. "But I'll make one more effort to smooth overSan-it-sa-rish, an' git him to snub that villain Mahtawa."Just as he spoke the villain in question entered thetent with a bold, haughty air, and sat down before thefire in sullen silence. For some minutes no one spoke,and Henri, who happened at the time to be examiningthe locks of Dick's rifle, continued to inspect them withan appearance of careless indifference that he was farfrom feeling.
Now, this rifle of Dick's had become a source ofunceasing wonder to the Indians--wonder which wasgreatly increased by the fact that no one could dischargeit but himself. Dick had, during his short stay at thePawnee village, amused himself and the savages by exhibitinghis marvellous powers with the "silver rifle."Since it had been won by him at the memorable matchin the Mustang Valley, it had scarce ever been out ofhis hand, so that he had become decidedly the best shotin the settlement, could "bark" squirrels (that is, hitthe bark of the branch on which a squirrel happenedto be standing, and so kill it by the concussion alone),and could "drive the nail" every shot. The silver rifle,as we have said, became "great medicine" to the Red-menwhen they saw it kill at a distance which the fewwretched guns they had obtained from the fur-traderscould not even send a spent ball to. The double shot,too, filled them with wonder and admiration; but thatwhich they regarded with an almost supernatural feelingof curiosity was the percussion cap, which, in Dick'shands, always exploded, but in theirs was utterly useless!
This result was simply owing to the fact that Dick,after firing, handed the rifle to the Indians withoutrenewing the cap; so that when they loaded and attemptedto fire, of course it merely snapped. When hewished again to fire, he adroitly exchanged the old capfor a new one. He was immensely tickled by thesolemn looks of the Indians at this most incomprehensibleof all "medicines," and kept them for some daysin ignorance of the true cause, intending to reveal itbefore he left. But circumstances now arose whichbanished all trifling thoughts from his mind.
Mahtawa raised his head suddenly, and said, pointingto the silver rifle, "Mahtawa wishes to have the two-shottedmedicine gun. He will give his best horse in exchange.""Mahtawa is liberal," answered Joe; "but the pale-facedyouth cannot part with it. He has far to travel,and must shoot buffaloes by the way.""The pale-faced youth shall have a bow and arrowsto shoot the buffalo," rejoined the Indian.
"He cannot use the bow and arrow," answered Joe.
"He has not been trained like the Red-man."Mahtawa was silent for a few seconds, and his darkbrows frowned more heavily than ever over his eyes.
"The Pale-faces are too bold," he exclaimed, workinghimself into a passion. "They are in the power ofMahtawa. If they will not give the gun he will takeit."He sprang suddenly to his feet as he spoke, andsnatched the rifle from Henri's hand.
Henri being ignorant of the language had not beenable to understand the foregoing conversation, althoughhe saw well enough that it was not an agreeable one;but no sooner did he find himself thus rudely and unexpectedlydeprived of the rifle than he jumped up,wrenched it in a twinkling from the Indian's grasp, andhurled him violently out of the tent.
In a moment Mahtawa drew his knife, uttered asavage yell, and sprang on the reckless hunter, who,however, caught his wrist, and held it as if in a vice.
The yell brought a dozen warriors instantly to the spot,and before Dick had time to recover from his astonishment,Henri was surrounded and pinioned despite hisherculean struggles.
Before Dick could move, Joe Blunt grasped his arm,and whispered quickly, "Don't rise. You can't helphim. They daren't kill him till San-it-sa-rish agrees."Though much surprised, Dick obeyed, but it requiredall his efforts, both of voice and hand, to control Crusoe,whose mind was much too honest and straightforwardto understand such subtle pieces of diplomacy, and whostrove to rush to the rescue of his ill-used friend.
When the tumult had partly subsided, Joe Blunt roseand said,--"Have the Pawnee braves turned traitors that theydraw the knife against those who have smoked with them the pipe ofpeaceand eaten their maize? ThePale-faces are three; the Pawnees are thousands. Ifevil has been done, let it be laid before the chief.
Mahtawa wishes to have the medicine gun. Althoughwe said, No, we could not part with it, he tried to takeit by force. Are we to go back to the great chief ofthe Pale-faces and say that the Pawnees are thieves?
Are the Pale-faces henceforth to tell their children whenthey steal, 'That is bad; that is like the Pawnee?'
No; this must not be. The rifle shall be restored, andwe will forget this disagreement. Is it not so?"There was an evident disposition on the part ofmany of the Indians, with whom Mahtawa was no favourite,to applaud this speech; but the wily chief sprangforward, and, with flashing eyes, sought to turn thetables.
"The Pale-face speaks with soft words, but his heartis false. Is he not going to make peace with the enemiesof the Pawnee? Is he not going to take goods tothem, and make them gifts and promises? The Pale-facesare spies. They come to see the weakness of thePawnee camp; but they have found that it is strong.
Shall we suffer the false hearts to escape? Shall theylive? No; we will hang their scalps in our wigwams,for they have struck a chief, and we will keep all theirgoods for our squaws--wah!"This allusion to keeping all the goods had more effecton the minds of the vacillating savages than the chief'seloquence. But a new turn was given to their thoughtsby Joe Blunt remarking in a quiet, almost contemptuoustone,--"Mahtawa is not the great chief.""True, true," they cried, and immediately hurried tothe tent of San-it-sa-rish.
Once again this chief stood between the hunters andthe savages, who wanted but a signal to fall on them.
There was a long palaver, which ended in Henri beingset at liberty and the rifle being restored.
That evening, as the three friends sat beside theirfire eating their supper of boiled maize and buffalo meat,they laughed and talked as carelessly as ever; but thegaiety was assumed, for they were at the time planningtheir escape from a tribe which, they foresaw, wouldnot long refrain from carrying out their wishes, androbbing, perhaps murdering them.
"Ye see," said Joe with a perplexed air, while hedrew a piece of live charcoal from the fire with hisfingers and lighted his pipe--"ye see, there's more difficultiesin the way o' gettin' off than ye think--""Oh, nivare mind de difficulties," interrupted Henri,whose wrath at the treatment he had received had notyet cooled down. "Ve must jump on de best horsesve can git hold, shake our fists at de red reptiles, andgo away fast as ve can. De best hoss must vin derace."Joe shook his head. "A hundred arrows would bein our backs before we got twenty yards from thecamp. Besides, we can't tell which are the best horses.
Our own are the best in my 'pinion, but how are we togit' em?""I know who has charge o' them," said Dick. "Isaw them grazing near the tent o' that poor squawwhose baby was saved by Crusoe. Either her husbandlooks after them or some neighbours.""That's well," said Joe. "That's one o' my difficultiesgone.""What are the others?""Well, d'ye see, they're troublesome. We can't gitthe horses out o' camp without bein' seen, for the redrascals would see what we were at in a jiffy. Then, ifwe do git 'em out, we can't go off without our bales,an' we needn't think to take 'em from under the noseo' the chief and his squaws without bein' axed questions.
To go off without them would niver do at all.""Joe," said Dick earnestly, "I've hit on a plan.""Have ye, Dick--what is't?""Come and I'll let ye see," answered Dick, risinghastily and quitting the tent, followed by his comradesand his faithful dog.
It may be as well to remark here, that no restraintwhatever had yet been put on the movements of ourhunters as long as they kept to their legs, for it waswell known that any attempt by men on foot to escapefrom mounted Indians on the plains would be hopeless.
Moreover, the savages thought that as long as there wasa prospect of their being allowed to depart peaceablywith their goods, they would not be so mad as to flyfrom the camp, and, by so doing, risk their lives anddeclare war with their entertainers. They had thereforebeen permitted to wander unchecked, as yet, farbeyond the outskirts of the camp, and amuse themselvesin paddling about the lake in the small Indian canoesand shooting wild-fowl.
Dick now led the way through the labyrinths oftents in the direction of the lake, and they talked andlaughed loudly, and whistled to Crusoe as they went,in order to prevent their purpose being suspected. Forthe purpose of further disarming suspicion, they wentwithout their rifles. Dick explained his plan by theway, and it was at once warmly approved of by hiscomrades.
On reaching the lake they launched a small canoe,into which Crusoe was ordered to jump; then, embarking,they paddled swiftly to the opposite shore, singinga canoe song as they dipped their paddles in the moonlitwaters of the lake. Arrived at the other side, theyhauled the canoe up and hurried through the thin beltof wood and willows that intervened between the lakeand the prairie. Here they paused.
"Is that the bluff, Joe?""No, Dick; that's too near. T'other one'll be best--faraway to the right. It's a little one, and there'sothers near it. The sharp eyes o' the Redskins won'tbe so likely to be prowlin' there.""Come on, then; but we'll have to take down by thelake first."In a few minutes the hunters were threading theirway through the outskirts of the wood at a rapid trot,in the opposite direction from the bluff, or wooded knoll,which they wished to reach. This they did lest pryingeyes should have followed them. In quarter of an hourthey turned at right angles to their track, and struckstraight out into the prairie, and after a long run theyedged round and came in upon the bluff from behind.
It was merely a collection of stunted but thick-growingwillows.
Forcing their way into the centre of this they beganto examine it.
"It'll do," said Joe.
"De very ting," remarked Henri.
"Come here, Crusoe."Crusoe bounded to his master's side, and looked upin his face.
"Look at this place, pup; smell it well."Crusoe instantly set off all round among the willows,in and out, snuffing everywhere, and whining with excitement.
"Come here, good pup; that will do. Now, lads,we'll go back." So saying, Dick and his friends leftthe bluff, and retraced their steps to the camp. Beforethey had gone far, however, Joe halted, and said,--"D'ye know, Dick, I doubt if the pup's so cliver asye think. What if he don't quite onderstand ye?"Dick replied by taking off his cap and throwing itdown, at the same time exclaiming, "Take it yonder,pup," and pointing with his hand towards the bluff.
The dog seized the cap, and went off with it at fullspeed towards the willows, where it left it, and camegalloping back for the expected reward--not now, as indays of old, a bit of meat, but a gentle stroke of itshead and a hearty clap on its shaggy side.
"Good pup! go now an' fetch it."Away he went with a bound, and in a few secondscame back and deposited the cap at his master's feet.
"Will that do?" asked Dick, triumphantly.
"Ay, lad, it will. The pup's worth its weight ingoold.""Oui, I have said, and I say it agen, de dog is human,so him is. If not, fat am he?"Without pausing to reply to this perplexing question,Dick stepped forward again, and in half-an-hour orso they were back in the camp.
"Now for your part of the work, Joe. Yonder's thesquaw that owns the half-drowned baby. Everythingdepends on her."Dick pointed to the Indian woman as he spoke. Shewas sitting beside her tent, and playing at her kneewas the identical youngster who had been saved byCrusoe.
"I'll manage it," said Joe, and walked towards her,while Dick and Henri returned to the chief's tent.
"Does the Pawnee woman thank the Great Spiritthat her child is saved?" began Joe as he came up.
"She does," answered the woman, looking up at thehunter. "And her heart is warm to the Pale-faces."After a short silence Joe continued,--"The Pawnee chiefs do not love the Pale-faces.
Some of them hate them.""The Dark Flower knows it," answered the woman;"she is sorry. She would help the Pale-faces if shecould."This was uttered in a low tone, and with a meaningglance of the eye.
Joe hesitated again--could he trust her? Yes; thefeelings that filled her breast and prompted her wordswere not those of the Indian just now--they were those of amother,whose gratitude was too full for utterance.
"Will the Dark Flower," said Joe, catching the nameshe had given herself, "help the Pale-face if he openshis heart to her? Will she risk the anger of hernation?""She will," replied the woman; "she will do whatshe can."Joe and his dark friend now dropped their high-soundingstyle of speech, and spoke for some minutesrapidly in an undertone. It was finally arranged thaton a given day, at a certain hour, the woman shouldtake the four horses down the shores of the lake toits lower end, as if she were going for firewood, therecross the creek at the ford, and drive them to thewillow bluff, and guard them till the hunters shouldarrive.
Having settled this, Joe returned to the tent andinformed his comrades of his success.
During the next three days Joe kept the Indians ingood-humour by giving them one or two trinkets, andspeaking in glowing terms of the riches of the whitemen, and the readiness with which they would partwith them to the savages if they would only makepeace.
Meanwhile, during the dark hours of each night,Dick managed to abstract small quantities of goodsfrom their pack, in room of which he stuffed in piecesof leather to keep up the size and appearance. Thegoods thus taken out he concealed about his person, andwent off with a careless swagger to the outskirts ofthe village, with Crusoe at his heels. Arrived there,he tied the goods in a small piece of deerskin, and gavethe bundle to the dog, with the injunction, "Take ityonder, pup."Crusoe took it up at once, darted off at full speedwith the bundle in his mouth, down the shore of thelake towards the ford of the river, and was soon lostto view. In this way, little by little, the goods wereconveyed by the faithful dog to the willow bluff andleft there, while the stuffed pack still remained in safekeeping in the chiefs tent.
Joe did not at first like the idea of thus sneaking offfrom the camp, and more than once made strong effortsto induce San-it-sa-rish to let him go; but even thatchief's countenance was not so favourable as it had been.
It was clear that he could not make up his mind to letslip so good a chance of obtaining guns, powder andshot, horses, and goods, without any trouble; so Joemade up his mind to give them the slip at once.
A dark night was chosen for the attempt, and theIndian woman went off with the horses to the placewhere firewood for the camp was usually cut. Unfortunately,the suspicion of that wily savage Mahtawahad been awakened, and he stuck close to the huntersall day--not knowing what was going on, but feelingconvinced that something was brewing which he resolvedto watch, without mentioning his suspicions toany one.
"I think that villain's away at last," whispered Joeto his comrades. "It's time to go, lads; the moonwon't be up for an hour. Come along.""Have ye got the big powder-horn, Joe?""Ay, ay, all right.""Stop! stop! my knife, my couteau. Ah, here I be!
Now, boy."The three set off as usual, strolling carelessly to theoutskirts of the camp; then they quickened their pace,and, gaining the lake, pushed off in a small canoe.
At the same moment Mahtawa stepped from thebushes, leaped into another canoe, and followed them.
"Ha! he must die," muttered Henri.
"Not at all," said Joe; "we'll manage him withoutthat."The chief landed and strode boldly up to them, forhe knew well that whatever their purpose might bethey would not venture to use their rifles within soundof the camp at that hour of the night. As for theirknives, he could trust to his own active limbs and thewoods to escape and give the alarm if need be.
"The Pale-faces hunt very late," he said, with amalicious grin. "Do they love the dark better thanthe sunshine?""Not so," replied Joe, coolly; "but we love towalk by the light of the moon. It will be up in lessthan an hour, and we mean to take a long ramble to-night.""The Pawnee chief loves to walk by the moon, too;he will go with the Pale-faces.""Good!" ejaculated Joe. "Come along, then."The party immediately set forward, although thesavage was a little taken by surprise at the indifferentway in which Joe received his proposal to accompanythem. He walked on to the edge of the prairie, however,and then stopped.
"The Pale-faces must go alone," said he; "Mahtawawill return to his tent."Joe replied to this intimation by seizing him suddenlyby the throat and choking back the yell that wouldotherwise have brought the Pawnee warriors rushing tothe scene of action in hundreds. Mahtawa's hand wason the handle of his scalping-knife in a moment, butbefore he could draw it his arms were glued to his sidesby the bear-like embrace of Henri, while Dick tied ahandkerchief quickly yet firmly round his mouth. Thewhole thing was accomplished in two minutes. Aftertaking his knife and tomahawk away, they loosenedtheir gripe and escorted him swiftly over the prairie.
Mahtawa was perfectly submissive after the firstconvulsive struggle was over. He knew that the menwho walked on each side of him grasping his arms weremore than his match singly, so he wisely made no resistance.
Hurrying him to a clump of small trees on the plainwhich was so far distant from the village that a yellcould not be heard, they removed the bandage fromMahtawa's mouth.
"Must he be kill?" inquired Henri, in a tone ofcommiseration.
"Not at all," answered Joe; "we'll tie him to a treeand leave him here.""Then he vill be starve to deat'. Oh, dat is morehorrobell!""He must take his chance o' that. I've no doubthis friends'll find him in a day or two, an' he's gameto last for a week or more. But you'll have to run tothe willow bluff, Dick, and bring a bit of line to tie him.
We can't spare it well; but there's no help.""But there is help," retorted Dick. "Just order thevillain to climb into that tree.""Why so, lad?""Don't ask questions, but do what I bid ye."The hunter smiled for a moment as he turned to theIndian, and ordered him to climb up a small tree nearto which he stood. Mahtawa looked surprised, butthere was no alternative. Joe's authoritative tonebrooked no delay, so he sprang into the tree like amonkey.
"Crusoe," said Dick, "watch him!"The dog sat quietly down at the foot of the tree, andfixed his eyes on the savage with a glare that spokeunutterable things. At the same time he displayed hisfull complement of teeth, and uttered a sound likedistant thunder.
Joe almost laughed, and Henri did laugh outright.
"Come along; he's safe now," cried Dick, hurryingaway in the direction of the willow bluff, which theysoon reached, and found that the faithful squaw hadtied their steeds to the bushes, and, moreover, hadbundled up their goods into a pack, and strapped it onthe back of the pack-horse; but she had not remainedwith them.
"Bless yer dark face!" ejaculated Joe, as he spranginto the saddle and rode out of the clump of bushes.
He was followed immediately by the others, and inthree minutes they were flying over the plain at fullspeed.
On gaining the last far-off ridge, that afforded adistant view of the woods skirting the Pawnee camp,they drew up; and Dick, putting his fingers to hismouth, drew a long, shrill whistle.
It reached the willow bluff like a faint echo. At thesame moment the moon arose and more clearly revealedCrusoe's cataleptic glare at the Indian chief, who, beingutterly unarmed, was at the dog's mercy. The instantthe whistle fell on his ear, however, he dropped his eyes,covered his teeth, and, leaping through the bushes, flewover the plains like an arrow. At the same instantMahtawa, descending from his tree, ran as fast as hecould towards the village, uttering the terrible war-whoopwhen near enough to be heard. No sound sendssuch a thrill through an Indian camp. Every warriorflew to arms, and vaulted on his steed. So quicklywas the alarm given that in less than ten minutes athousand hoofs were thundering on the plain, andfaintly reached the ears of the fugitives.
Joe smiled. "It'll puzzle them to come up wi' nagslike ours. They're in prime condition, too--lots o' windin' em. If we only keep out o' badger holes we maylaugh at the red varmints."Joe's opinion of Indian horses was correct. In a veryfew minutes the sound of hoofs died away; but thefugitives did not draw bridle during the remainder ofthat night, for they knew not how long the pursuitmight be continued. By pond, and brook, and bluffthey passed, down in the grassy bottoms and over theprairie waves--nor checked their headlong course tillthe sun blazed over the level sweep of the eastern plainas if it arose out of the mighty ocean.
Then they sprang from the saddle, and hastily setabout the preparation of their morning meal.
CHAPTER XI.
 Evening meditations and morning reflections--Buffaloes, badgers,antelopes, and accidents--An old bull and the wolves--"Madtails"--Henri floored, etc.
There is nothing that prepares one so well for theenjoyment of rest, both mental and physical, as along-protracted period of excitement and anxiety, followedup by bodily fatigue. Excitement alone banishesrest; but, united with severe physical exertion, it preparesfor it. At least, courteous reader, this is ourexperience; and certainly this was the experience of ourthree hunters as they lay on their backs beneath thebranches of a willow bush and gazed serenely up at thetwinkling stars two days after their escape from theIndian village.
They spoke little; they were too tired for that, alsothey were too comfortable. Their respective suppers offresh antelope steak, shot that day, had just been disposedof. Their feet were directed towards the smallfire on which the said steaks had been cooked, andwhich still threw a warm, ruddy glow over the encampment.
Their blankets were wrapped comfortably roundthem, and tucked in as only hunters and mothers knowhow to tuck them in. Their respective pipes deliveredforth, at stated intervals, three richly yellow puffs ofsmoke, as if a three-gun battery were playing upon thesky from that particular spot of earth. The horseswere picketed and hobbled in a rich grassy bottom closeby, from which the quiet munch of their equine jawssounded pleasantly, for it told of healthy appetites,and promised speed on the morrow. The fear of beingovertaken during the night was now past, and thefaithful Crusoe, by virtue of sight, hearing, and smell,guaranteed them against sudden attack during the hoursof slumber. A perfume of wild flowers mingled withthe loved odours of the "weed," and the tinkle of atiny rivulet fell sweetly on their ears. In short, the"Pale-faces" were supremely happy, and disposed to bethankful for their recent deliverance and their presentcomforts.
"I wonder what the stars are," said Dick, languidlytaking the pipe out of his mouth.
"Bits o' fire," suggested Joe.
"I tink dey are vorlds," muttered Henri, "an' havepeepels in dem. I have hear men say dat."A long silence followed, during which, no doubt, thestar-gazers were working out various theories in theirown minds.
"Wonder," said Dick again, "how far off they be.""A mile or two, maybe," said Joe.
Henri was about to laugh sarcastically at this, buton further consideration he thought it would be morecomfortable not to, so he lay still. In another minutehe said,--"Joe Blunt, you is ver' igrant. Don't you know datde books say de stars be hondreds, tousands--oh!
milleryons of mile away to here, and dat dey is morebigger dan dis vorld?"Joe snored lightly, and his pipe fell out of hismouth at this point, so the conversation dropped.
Presently Dick asked in a low tone, "I say, Henri,are ye asleep?""Oui," replied Henry faintly. "Don't speak, or youvill vaken me.""Ah, Crusoe! you're not asleep, are you, pup?" Noneed to ask that question. The instantaneous wag ofthat speaking tail and the glance of that wakeful eye,as the dog lifted his head and laid his chin on Dick'sarm, showed that he had been listening to every wordthat was spoken. We cannot say whether he understoodit, but beyond all doubt he heard it. Crusoenever presumed to think of going to sleep until hismaster was as sound as a top, then he ventured to indulgein that light species of slumber which is familiarly knownas "sleeping with one eye open." But, comparatively aswell as figuratively speaking, Crusoe slept usually withone eye and a half open, and the other half was neververy tightly shut.
Gradually Dick's pipe fell out of his mouth, anevent which the dog, with an exercise of instinct almost,if not quite, amounting to reason, regarded as asignal for him to go off. The camp fire went slowlyout, the stars twinkled down at their reflections in thebrook, and a deep breathing of wearied men was theonly sound that rose in harmony with the purlingstream.
Before the sun rose next morning, and while many ofthe brighter stars were still struggling for existencewith the approaching day, Joe was up and buckling onthe saddle-bags, while he shouted to his unwilling companionsto rise.
"If it depended on you," he said, "the Pawneeswouldn't be long afore they got our scalps. Jump, yedogs, an' lend a hand, will ye?"A snore from Dick and a deep sigh from Henri wasthe answer to this pathetic appeal. It so happened,however, that Henri's pipe, in falling from his lips, hademptied the ashes just under his nose, so that the sighreferred to drew a quantity thereof into his throat andalmost choked him. Nothing could have been a moreeffective awakener. He was up in a moment coughingvociferously. Most men have a tendency to vent ill-humouron some one, and they generally do it on onewhom they deem to be worse than themselves. Henri,therefore, instead of growling at Joe for rousing him,scolded Dick for not rising.
"Ha, mauvais dog! bad chien! vill you dare to lookto me?"Crusoe did look with amiable placidity, as though tosay, "Howl away, old boy, I won't budge till Dick does."With a mighty effort Giant Sleep was thrown off atlast, and the hunters were once more on their journey,cantering lightly over the soft turf.
"Ho, let's have a run!" cried Dick, unable to repressthe feelings aroused by the exhilarating morning air.
"Have a care, boy," cried Joe, as they stretched outat full gallop. "Keep off the ridge; it's riddled wi'
badger--Ha! I thought so."At that moment Dick's horse put its foot into abadger-hole and turned completely over, sending itsrider through the air in a curve that an East Indianacrobat would have envied. For a few seconds Dicklay flat on his back, then he jumped up and laughed,while his comrades hurried up anxiously to his assistance.
"No bones broke?" inquired Joe.
Dick gave a hysterical gasp. "I--I think not.""Let's have a look. No, nothin' to speak o', begood luck. Ye should niver go slap through a badgercountry like that, boy; always keep i' the bottoms, wherethe grass is short. Now then, up ye go. That's it!"Dick remounted, though not with quite so elastic aspring as usual, and they pushed forward at a morereasonable pace.
Accidents of this kind are of common occurrence inthe prairies. Some horses, however, are so well trainedthat they look sharp out for these holes, which are generallyfound to be most numerous on the high and drygrounds. But in spite of all the caution both of manand horse many ugly falls take place, and sometimesbones are broken.
They had not gone far after this accident when anantelope leaped from a clump of willows, and made fora belt of woodland that lay along the margin of a streamnot half-a-mile off.
"Hurrah!" cried Dick, forgetting his recent fall.
"Come along, Crusoe." And away they went againfull tilt, for the horse had not been injured by itssomersault.
The antelope which Dick was thus wildly pursuingwas of the same species as the one he had shot sometime before--namely, the prong-horned antelope. Thesegraceful creatures have long, slender limbs, delicately-formedheads, and large, beautiful eyes. The horns areblack, and rather short; they have no branches, likethe antlers of the red-deer, but have a single projectionon each horn, near the head, and the extreme pointsof the horns curve suddenly inwards, forming thehook or prong from which the name of the animalis derived. Their colour is dark yellowish brown.
They are so fleet that not one horse in a hundredcan overtake them; and their sight and sense of smellare so acute that it would be next to impossible to killthem, were it not for the inordinate curiosity whichwe have before referred to. The Indians manage toattract these simple little creatures by merely lyingdown on their backs and kicking their heels in the air,or by waving any white object on the point of an arrow,while the hunter keeps concealed by lying flat in thegrass. By these means a herd of antelopes may beinduced to wheel round and round an object in timidbut intense surprise, gradually approaching until theycome near enough to enable the hunter to make sure ofhis mark. Thus the animals, which of all others oughtto be the most difficult to slay, are, in consequence oftheir insatiable curiosity, more easily shot than any otherdeer of the plains.
May we not gently suggest to the reader for his orher consideration that there are human antelopes, so tospeak, whose case bears a striking resemblance to theprong-horn of the North American prairie?
Dick's horse was no match for the antelope, neitherwas Crusoe; so they pulled up shortly and returned totheir companions, to be laughed at.
"It's no manner o' use to wind yer horse, lad, aftersich game. They're not much worth, an', if I mistakenot, we'll be among the buffalo soon. There's freshtracks everywhere, and the herds are scattered now. Yesee, when they keep together in bands o' thousands yedon't so often fall in wi' them. But when they scattersabout in twos, an' threes, an' sixes ye may shoot themevery day as much as ye please."Several groups of buffalo had already been seen onthe horizon, but as a red-deer had been shot in a beltof woodland the day before they did not pursue them.
The red-deer is very much larger than the prong-hornedantelope, and is highly esteemed both for its flesh andits skin, which latter becomes almost like chamoisleather when dressed. Notwithstanding this supply offood, the hunters could not resist the temptation to givechase to a herd of about nine buffaloes that suddenlycame into view as they overtopped an undulation in theplain.
"It's no use," cried Dick, "I must go at them!"Joe himself caught fire from the spirit of his youngfriend, so calling to Henri to come on and let the pack-horseremain to feed, he dashed away in pursuit. Thebuffaloes gave one stare of surprise, and then fled as fastas possible. At first it seemed as if such huge, unwieldycarcasses could not run very fast; but in a fewminutes they managed to get up a pace that put thehorses to their mettle. Indeed, at first it seemed as ifthe hunters did not gain an inch; but by degrees theyclosed with them, for buffaloes are not long winded.
On nearing the herd, the three men diverged fromeach other and selected their animals. Henri, beingshort-sighted, naturally singled out the largest; and thelargest--also naturally--was a tough old bull. Joebrought down a fat young cow at the first shot, andDick was equally fortunate. But he well-nigh shotCrusoe, who, just as he was about to fire, rushed in unexpectedlyand sprang at the animal's throat, for whichpiece of recklessness he was ordered back to watch thepack-horse.
Meanwhile, Henri, by dint of yelling, throwing hisarms wildly about, and digging his heels into the sidesof his long-legged horse, succeeded in coming close upwith the bull, which once or twice turned his clumsybody half round and glared furiously at its pursuerwith its small black eyes. Suddenly it stuck out itstail, stopped short, and turned full round. Henri stoppedshort also. Now, the sticking out of a buffalo's tail hasa peculiar significance which it is well to point out. Itserves, in a sense, the same purpose to the hunter thatthe compass does to the mariner--it points out where togo and what to do. When galloping away in ordinaryflight, the buffalo carries his tail like ordinary cattle,which indicates that you may push on. When wounded,he lashes it from side to side, or carries it over his back,up in the air; this indicates, "Look out! haul off abit!" But when he carries it stiff and horizontal, witha slight curve in the middle of it, it says plainly, "Keepback, or kill me as quick as you can," for that is whatIndians call the mad tail, and is a sign that mischief isbrewing.
Henri's bull displayed the mad tail just before turning,but he didn't observe it, and, accordingly, waited for thebull to move and show his shoulder for a favourableshot. But instead of doing this he put his head down,and, foaming with rage, went at him full tilt. The bighorse never stirred; it seemed to be petrified, Henrihad just time to fire at the monster's neck, and the nextmoment was sprawling on his back, with the horse rollingover four or five yards beyond him. It was a mosteffective tableau--Henri rubbing his shins and grinningwith pain, the horse gazing in affright as he rose tremblingfrom the plain, and the buffalo bull looking onhalf stunned, and evidently very much surprised at theresult of his charge.
Fortunately, before he could repeat the experiment,Dick galloped up and put a ball through his heart.
Joe and his comrades felt a little ashamed of theirexploit on this occasion, for there was no need to havekilled three animals--they could not have carried withthem more than a small portion of one--and they upbraidedthemselves several times during the operation ofcutting out the tongues and other choice portions of thetwo victims. As for the bull, he was almost totallyuseless, so they left him as a gift to the wolves.
Now that they had come among the buffalo, wolveswere often seen sneaking about and licking their hungryjaws; but although they approached pretty near to thecamp at nights, they did not give the hunters any concern.
Even Crusoe became accustomed to them at last,and ceased to notice them. These creatures are verydangerous sometimes, however, and when hard pressedby hunger will even attack man. The day after thishunt the travellers came upon a wounded old buffalowhich had evidently escaped from the Indians (for acouple of arrows were sticking in its side), only to falla prey to his deadly enemies, the white wolves. Thesesavage brutes hang on the skirts of the herds of buffaloesto attack and devour any one that may chance, fromold age or from being wounded, to linger behind the rest.
The buffalo is tough and fierce, however, and fights sodesperately that, although surrounded by fifty or ahundred wolves, he keeps up the unequal combat forseveral days before he finally succumbs.
The old bull that our travellers discovered had evidentlybeen long engaged with his ferocious adversaries,for his limbs and flesh were torn in shreds inmany places, and blood was streaming from his sides.
Yet he had fought so gallantly that he had tossed andstamped to death dozens of the enemy. There couldnot have been fewer than fifty wolves round him; andthey had just concluded another of many futile attackswhen the hunters came up, for they were ranged in acircle round their huge adversary--some lying down,some sitting on their haunches to rest, and others sneakingabout, lolling out their red tongues and licking theirchops as if impatient to renew the combat. The poorbuffalo was nearly spent, and it was clear that a fewhours more would see him torn to shreds and his bonespicked clean.
"Ugh! de brutes," ejaculated Henri.
"They don't seem to mind us a bit," remarked Dick,as they rode up to within pistol shot.
"It'll be merciful to give the old fellow a shot," saidJoe. "Them varmints are sure to finish him at last."Joe raised his rifle as he spoke, and fired. The oldbull gave his last groan and fell, while the wolves,alarmed by the shot, fled in all directions; but they didnot run far. They knew well that some portion, atleast, of the carcass would fall to their share; so theysat down at various distances all round, to wait aspatiently as they might for the hunters to retire. Dickleft the scene with a feeling of regret that the villanouswolves should have their feast so much sooner than theyexpected.
Yet, after all, why should we call these wolves villanous?
They did nothing wrong--nothing contrary tothe laws of their peculiar nature. Nay, if we come toreason upon it, they rank higher in this matter thanman; for while the wolf does no violence to the laws ofits instincts, man often deliberately silences the voice ofconscience, and violates the laws of his own nature.
But we will not insist on the term, good reader, if youobject strongly to it. We are willing to admit that thewolves are not villanous, but, assuredly, they areunlovable.
In the course of the afternoon the three horsemenreached a small creek, the banks of which were linedwith a few stunted shrubs and trees. Having eatennothing since the night before, they dismounted here to"feed," as Joe expressed it.
"Cur'ous thing," remarked Joe, as he struck a lightby means of flint, steel, and tinder-box--"cur'ous thingthat we're made to need sich a lot o' grub. If we couldonly get on like the sarpints, now, wot can breakfast ona rabbit, and then wait a month or two for dinner!
Ain't it cur'ous?"Dick admitted that it was, and stooped to blow thefire into a blaze.
Here Henri uttered a cry of consternation, and stoodspeechless, with his mouth open.
"What's the matter? what is't?" cried Dick and Joe,seizing their rifles instinctively.
"De--grub--him--be--forgat!"There was a look of blank horror, and then a burstof laughter from Dick Varley. "Well, well," cried he,"we've got lots o' tea an' sugar, an' some flour; we cangit on wi' that till we shoot another buffalo, or a--ha!"Dick observed a wild turkey stalking among thewillows as he spoke. It was fully a hundred yards off,and only its head was seen above the leaves. This wasa matter of little moment, however, for by aiming alittle lower he knew that he must hit the body. ButDick had driven the nail too often to aim at its body;he aimed at the bird's eye, and cut its head off.
"Fetch it, Crusoe."In three minutes it was at Dick's feet, and it is nottoo much to say that in five minutes more it was in thepot.
As this unexpected supply made up for the loss of themeat which Henri had forgotten at their last halting-place,their equanimity was restored; and while the mealwas in preparation Dick shouldered his rifle and wentinto the bush to try for another turkey. He did notget one, however, but he shot a couple of prairie-hens,which are excellent eating. Moreover, he found a largequantity of wild grapes and plums. These were unfortunatelynot nearly ripe, but Dick resolved to try hishand at a new dish, so he stuffed the breast of his coatfull of them.
After the pot was emptied, Dick washed it out, andput a little clean water in it. Then he poured someflour in, and stirred it well. While this was heating, hesqueezed the sour grapes and plums into what Joecalled a "mush," mixed it with a spoonful of sugar, andemptied it into the pot. He also skimmed a quantityof the fat from the remains of the turkey soup andadded that to the mess, which he stirred with earnestdiligence till it boiled down into a sort of thick porridge.
"D'ye think it'll be good?" asked Joe gravely; "I'veme doubts of it.""We'll see.--Hold the tin dish, Henri.""Take care of de fingers. Ha! it looks magnifique--superb!"The first spoonful produced an expression on Henri'sface that needed not to be interpreted. It was as souras vinegar.
"Ye'll ha' to eat it yerself, Dick, lad," cried Joe,throwing down his spoon, and spitting out the unsavourymess.
"Nonsense," cried Dick, bolting two or three mouthfuls,and trying to look as if he liked it. "Try again;it's not so bad as you think.""Ho-o-o-o-o!" cried Henri, after the second mouthful.
"Tis vinégre. All de sugare in de pack would notmake more sweeter one bite of it."Dick was obliged to confess the dish a failure, so itwas thrown out after having been offered to Crusoe,who gave it one sniff and turned away in silence. Thenthey mounted and resumed their journey.
At this place mosquitoes and horse-flies troubled ourhunters and their steeds a good deal. The latter especiallywere very annoying to the poor horses. They bitthem so much that the blood at last came tricklingdown their sides. They were troubled also, once ortwice, by cockchafers and locusts, which annoyed them,not indeed by biting, but by flying blindly against theirfaces, and often-narrowly missed hitting them in theeyes. Once particularly they were so bad that Henriin his wrath opened his lips to pronounce a maledictionon the whole race, when a cockchafer flew straight intohis mouth, and, to use his own forcible expression,"nearly knocked him off de hoss." But these wereminor evils, and scarcely cost the hunters a thought.
CHAPTER XII.
 Wanderings on the prairie--A war party--Chased byIndians--A bold leap for life.
For many days the three hunters wandered overthe trackless prairie in search of a village of theSioux Indians, but failed to find one, for the Indianswere in the habit of shifting their ground and followingthe buffalo. Several times they saw small isolated bandsof Indians; but these they carefully avoided, fearingthey might turn out to be war parties, and if they fellinto their hands the white men could not expect civiltreatment, whatever nation the Indians might belong to.
During the greater portion of this time they met withnumerous herds of buffalo and deer, and were well suppliedwith food; but they had to cook it during the day,being afraid to light a fire at night while Indians wereprowling about.
One night they halted near the bed of a stream whichwas almost dry. They had travelled a day and a nightwithout water, and both men and horses were almostchoking, so that when they saw the trees on the horizonwhich indicated the presence of a stream, they pushedforward with almost frantic haste.
"Hope it's not dry," said Joe anxiously as they galloped up to it.
"No,there's water, lads," and theydashed forward to a pool that had not yet been driedup. They drank long and eagerly before they noticedthat the pool was strongly impregnated with salt. Manystreams in those parts of the prairies are quite salt, butfortunately this one was not utterly undrinkable, thoughit was very unpalatable.
"We'll make it better, lads," said Joe, digging a deephole in the sand with his hands, a little below the pool.
In a short time the water filtered through, and thoughnot rendered fresh, it was, nevertheless, much improved.
"We may light a fire to-night, d'ye think?" inquiredDick; "we've not seed Injuns for some days.""P'r'aps 'twould be better not," said Joe; "but I daresaywe're safe enough."A fire was therefore lighted in as sheltered a spot ascould be found, and the three friends bivouacked asusual. Towards dawn they were aroused by an angrygrowl from Crusoe.
"It's a wolf likely," said Dick, but all three seized andcocked their rifles nevertheless.
Again Crusoe growled more angrily than before, andspringing out of the camp snuffed the breeze anxiously.
"Up, lads! catch the nags! There's something in thewind, for the dog niver did that afore."In a few seconds the horses were saddled and thepacks secured.
"Call in the dog," whispered Joe Blunt; "if he barksthey'll find out our whereabouts.""Here, Crusoe, come--"It was too late; the dog barked loudly and savagelyat the moment, and a troop of Indians came coursingover the plain. On hearing the unwonted sound theywheeled directly and made for the camp.
"It's a war party; fly, lads! nothin' 'll save ourscalps now but our horses' heels," cried Joe.
In a moment they vaulted into the saddle and urgedtheir steeds forward at the utmost speed. The savagesobserved them, and with an exulting yell dashed afterthem. Feeling that there was now no need of concealment,the three horsemen struck off into the open prairie,intending to depend entirely on the speed and staminaof their horses. As we have before remarked, theywere good ones; but the Indians soon proved that theywere equally well if not better mounted.
"It'll be a hard run," said Joe in a low, mutteringtone, and looking furtively over his shoulder. "Thevarmints are mounted on wild horses--leastways theywere wild not long agone. Them chaps can throw thelasso and trip a mustang as well as a Mexican. Mindthe badger-holes, Dick.--Hold in a bit, Henri; yer nagdon't need drivin'; a foot in a hole just now wouldcost us our scalps. Keep down by the creek, lads.""Ha! how dey yell," said Henri in a savage tone,looking back, and shaking his rifle at them, an act thatcaused them to yell more fiercely than ever. "Dis oldpack-hoss give me moche trobel."The pace was now tremendous. Pursuers and pursuedrose and sank on the prairie billows as they sweptalong, till they came to what is termed a "dividingridge," which is a cross wave, as it were, that cuts theothers in two, thus forming a continuous level. Herethey advanced more easily; but the advantage wasequally shared with their pursuers, who continued theheadlong pursuit with occasional yells, which served toshow the fugitives that they at least did not gainground.
A little to the right of the direction in which theywere flying a blue line was seen on the horizon. Thisindicated the existence of trees to Joe's practised eyes,and feeling that if the horses broke down they couldbetter make a last manful stand in the wood than onthe plain he urged his steed towards it. The savagesnoticed the movement at once, and uttered a yell ofexultation, for they regarded it as an evidence that thefugitives doubted the strength of their horses.
"Ye haven't got us yet," muttered Joe, with a sardonicgrin. "If they get near us, Dick, keep yer eyesopen an' look out for yer neck, else they'll drop a nooseover it, they will, afore ye know they're near, an' haulye off like a sack."Dick nodded in reply, but did not speak, for at thatmoment his eye was fixed on a small creek ahead whichthey must necessarily leap or dash across. It waslined with clumps of scattered shrubbery, and heglanced rapidly for the most suitable place to pass.
Joe and Henri did the same, and having diverged alittle to the different points chosen, they dashed throughthe shrubbery and were hid from each other's view.
On approaching the edge of the stream, Dick found tohis consternation that the bank was twenty feet highopposite him, and too wide for any horse to clear.
Wheeling aside without checking speed, at the risk ofthrowing his steed, he rode along the margin of thestream for a few hundred yards until he found a ford--atleast such a spot as might be cleared by a boldleap. The temporary check, however, had enabled anIndian to gain so close upon his heels that his exultingyell sounded close in his ear.
With a vigorous bound his gallant little horse wentover. Crusoe could not take it, but he rushed downthe one bank and up the other, so that he only lost afew yards. These few yards, however, were sufficientto bring the Indian close upon him as he cleared thestream at full gallop. The savage whirled his lassoswiftly round for a second, and in another momentCrusoe uttered a tremendous roar as he was tripped upviolently on the plain.
Dick heard the cry of his faithful dog, and turnedquickly round, just in time to see him spring at thehorse's throat, and bring both steed and rider downupon him. Dick's heart leaped to his throat. Had athousand savages been rushing on him he would haveflown to the rescue of his favourite; but an unexpectedobstacle came in the way. His fiery little steed, excitedby the headlong race and the howls of the Indians,had taken the bit in his teeth and was now unmanageable.
Dick tore at the reins like a maniac, and in theheight of his frenzy even raised the butt of his rifle withthe intent to strike the poor horse to the earth, but hisbetter nature prevailed. He checked the uplifted hand,and with, a groan dropped the reins, and sank almosthelplessly forward on the saddle; for several of the Indianshad left the main body and were pursuing himalone, so that there would have been now no chance ofhis reaching the place where Crusoe fell, even if he couldhave turned his horse.
Spiritless, and utterly indifferent to what his fatemight be, Dick Varley rode along with his head drooping,and keeping his seat almost mechanically, while themettlesome little steed flew on over wave and hollow.
Gradually he awakened from this state of despair to asense of danger. Glancing round he observed that theIndians were now far behind him, though still pursuing.
He also observed that his companions were gallopingmiles away on the horizon to the left, and that he hadfoolishly allowed the savages to get between him andthem. The only chance that remained for him was tooutride his pursuers, and circle round towards his comrades,and this he hoped to accomplish, for his littlehorse had now proved itself to be superior to those of theIndians, and there was good running in him still.
Urging him forward, therefore, he soon left the savagesstill farther behind, and feeling confident that they couldnot now overtake him he reined up and dismounted.
The pursuers quickly drew near, but short though itwas the rest did his horse good. Vaulting into thesaddle, he again stretched out, and now skirted alongthe margin of a wood which seemed to mark the positionof a river of considerable size.
At this moment his horse put his foot into a badger-hole,and both of them came heavily to the ground.
In an instant Dick rose, picked up his gun, and leapedunhurt into the saddle. But on urging his poor horseforward he found that its shoulder was badly sprained.
There was no room for mercy, however--life and deathwere in the balance--so he plied the lash vigorously,and the noble steed warmed into something like a run,when again it stumbled, and fell with a crash on theground, while the blood burst from its mouth and nostrils.
Dick could hear the shout of triumph uttered byhis pursuers.
"My poor, poor horse!" he exclaimed in a tone of thedeepest commiseration, while he stooped and stroked itsfoam-studded neck.
The dying steed raised its head for a moment, it almostseemed as if to acknowledge the tones of affection,then it sank down with a gurgling groan.
Dick sprang up, for the Indians were now upon him,and bounded like an antelope into the thickest of theshrubbery; which was nowhere thick enough, however,to prevent the Indians following. Still, it sufficientlyretarded them to render the chase a more equal one thancould have been expected. In a few minutes Dickgained a strip of open ground beyond, and foundhimself on the bank of a broad river, whose evidentlydeep waters rushed impetuously along their unobstructedchannel. The bank at the spot where hereached it was a sheer precipice of between thirty andforty feet high. Glancing up and down the river heretreated a few paces, turned round and shook hisclenched fist at the savages, accompanying the actionwith a shout of defiance, and then running to the edgeof the bank, sprang far out into the boiling flood andsank.
The Indians pulled up on reaching the spot. Therewas no possibility of galloping down the wood-encumberedbanks after the fugitive; but quick as thoughteach Red-man leaped to the ground, and fitting an arrowto his bow, awaited Dick's re-appearance with eagergaze.
Young though he was, and unskilled in such wildwarfare, Dick knew well enough what sort of receptionhe would meet with on coming to the surface, so he keptunder water as long as he could, and struck out as vigorouslyas the care of his rifle would permit. At last herose for a few seconds, and immediately half-a-dozenarrows whizzed through the air; but most of them fellshort--only one passed close to his cheek, and went witha "whip" into the river. He immediately sank again,and the next time he rose to breathe he was far beyondthe reach of his Indian enemies.
CHAPTER XIII.
 Escape from Indians--A discovery--Alone in the desert.
Dick Varley had spent so much of his boyhoodin sporting about among the waters of the riversand lakes near which he had been reared, and especiallyduring the last two years had spent so much of hisleisure time in rolling and diving with his dog Crusoein the lake of the Mustang Valley, that he had becomealmost as expert in the water as a South Sea islander;so that when he found himself whirling down the rapidriver, as already described, he was more impressed witha feeling of gratitude to God for his escape from theIndians than anxiety about getting ashore.
He was not altogether blind or indifferent to thedanger into which he might be hurled if the channel ofthe river should be found lower down to be broken withrocks, or should a waterfall unexpectedly appear. Afterfloating down a sufficient distance to render pursuitout of the question, he struck into the bank opposite tothat from which he had plunged, and clambering upto the greensward above, stripped off the greater partof his clothing and hung it on the branches of a bush todry. Then he sat down on the trunk of a fallen treeto consider what course he had best pursue in his presentcircumstances.
These circumstances were by no means calculated toinspire him with hope or comfort. He was in themidst of an unknown wilderness, hundreds of milesfrom any white man's settlement; surrounded bysavages; without food or blanket; his companionsgone, he knew not whither--perhaps taken and killedby the Indians; his horse dead; and his dog, the mosttrusty and loving of all his friends, lost to him, probably,for ever! A more veteran heart might havequailed in the midst of such accumulated evils; butDick Varley possessed a strong, young, and buoyantconstitution, which, united with a hopefulness of dispositionthat almost nothing could overcome, enabled himvery quickly to cast aside the gloomy view of his caseand turn to its brighter aspects.
He still grasped his good rifle, that was some comfort;and as his eye fell upon it, he turned with anxiety toexamine into the condition of his powder-horn and thefew things that he had been fortunate enough to carryaway with him about his person.
The horn in which western hunters carry their powderis usually that of an ox. It is closed up at the largeend with a piece of hard wood fitted tightly into it, andthe small end is closed with a wooden peg or stopper.
It is therefore completely water-tight, and may be forhours immersed without the powder getting wet, unlessthe stopper should chance to be knocked out. Dickfound, to his great satisfaction, that the stopper wasfast and the powder perfectly dry. Moreover, he had by good fortunefilledit full two days before from thepackage that contained the general stock of ammunition,so that there were only two or three charges out of it.
His percussion caps, however, were completely destroyed;and even though they had not been, it would have matteredlittle, for he did not possess more than half-a-dozen.
But this was not so great a misfortune as at first itmight seem, for he had the spare flint locks and the littlescrew-driver necessary for fixing and unfixing themstowed away in his shot pouch.
To examine his supply of bullets was his next care,and slowly he counted them out, one by one, to thenumber of thirty. This was a pretty fair supply, andwith careful economy would last him many days. Havingrelieved his mind on these all-important points,he carefully examined every pouch and corner of hisdress to ascertain the exact amount and value of hiswealth.
Besides the leather leggings, moccasins, deerskin hunting-shirt,cap, and belt which composed his costume, hehad a short heavy hunting-knife, a piece of tinder, alittle tin pannikin, which he had been in the habit ofcarrying at his belt, and a large cake of maple sugar.
This last is a species of sugar which is procured by theIndians from the maple-tree. Several cakes of it hadbeen carried off from the Pawnee village, and Dickusually carried one in the breast of his coat. Besidesthese things, he found that the little Bible, for whichhis mother had made a small inside breast-pocket, wassafe. Dick's heart smote him when he took it out andundid the clasp, for he had not looked at it until thatday. It was firmly bound with a brass clasp, so that,although the binding and the edges of the leaves weresoaked, the inside was quite dry. On opening the bookto see if it had been damaged, a small paper fell out.
Picking it up quickly, he unfolded it, and read, in hismother's handwriting: "Call upon me in the time oftrouble; and I will deliver thee, and thou shalt glorifyme. My son, give me thine heart."Dick's eyes filled with tears while the sound, as itwere, of his mother's voice thus reached him unexpectedlyin that lonely wilderness. Like too many whosehearts are young and gay, Dick had regarded religion, ifnot as a gloomy, at least as not a cheerful thing. Buthe felt the comfort of these words at that moment, andhe resolved seriously to peruse his mother's parting giftin time to come.
The sun was hot, and a warm breeze gently shookthe leaves, so that Dick's garments were soon dry. Afew minutes served to change the locks of his rifle, drawthe wet charges, dry out the barrels, and re-load. Thenthrowing it across his shoulder, he entered the wood andwalked lightly away. And well he might, poor fellow,for at that moment he felt light enough in person if notin heart. His worldly goods were not such as to oppresshim; but the little note had turned his thoughts towardshome, and he felt comforted.
Traversing the belt of woodland that marked thecourse of the river, Dick soon emerged on the wideprairie beyond, and here he paused in some uncertaintyas to how he should proceed.
He was too good a backwoodsman, albeit so young, tofeel perplexed as to the points of the compass. Heknew pretty well what hour it was, so that the sunshowed him the general bearings of the country, and heknew that when night came he could correct his courseby the pole star. Dick's knowledge of astronomy waslimited; he knew only one star by name, but that onewas an inestimable treasure of knowledge. His perplexitywas owing to his uncertainty as to the directionin which his companions and their pursuers had gone;for he had made up his mind to follow their trail ifpossible, and render all the succour his single armmight afford. To desert them, and make for the settlement,he held, would be a faithless and cowardlyact.
While they were together Joe Blunt had often talkedto him about the route he meant to pursue to the RockyMountains, so that, if they had escaped the Indians, hethought there might be some chance of finding them atlast. But, to set against this, there was the probabilitythat they had been taken and carried away in a totallydifferent direction; or they might have taken to theriver, as he had done, and gone farther down withouthis observing them. Then, again, if they had escaped,they would be sure to return and search the countryround for him, so that if he left the spot he might missthem.
"Oh for my dear pup Crusoe!" he exclaimed aloudin this dilemma; but the faithful ear was shut now,and the deep silence that followed his cry was so oppressivethat the young hunter sprang forward at a runover the plain, as if to fly from solitude. He soon becameso absorbed, however, in his efforts to find thetrail of his companions, that he forgot all other considerations,and ran straight forward for hours togetherwith his eyes eagerly fixed on the ground. At last hefelt so hungry, having tasted no food since supper-timethe previous evening, that he halted for the purpose ofeating a morsel of maple sugar. A line of bushes inthe distance indicated water, so he sped on again, andwas soon seated beneath a willow, drinking water fromthe cool stream. No game was to be found here, butthere were several kinds of berries, among which wildgrapes and plums grew in abundance. With these andsome sugar he made a meal, though not a good one, forthe berries were quite green and intensely sour.
All that day Dick Varley followed up the trail of hiscompanions, which he discovered at a ford in the river.
They had crossed, therefore, in safety, though still pursued;so he ran on at a regular trot, and with a littlemore hope than he had felt during the day. Towardsnight, however, Dick's heart sank again, for he cameupon innumerable buffalo tracks, among which those ofthe horses soon became mingled up, so that he lost themaltogether. Hoping to find them again more easily bybroad daylight, he went to the nearest clump of willowshe could find, and encamped for the night.
Remembering the use formerly made of the tall willows,he set to work to construct a covering to protecthim from the dew. As he had no blanket or buffaloskin, he used leaves and grass instead, and found it abetter shelter than he had expected, especially when thefire was lighted, and a pannikin of hot sugar and watersmoked at his feet; but as no game was to be found, hewas again compelled to sup off unripe berries. Beforelying down to rest he remembered his resolution, andpulling out the little Bible, read a portion of it by thefitful blaze of the fire, and felt great comfort in its blessedwords. It seemed to him like a friend with whom hecould converse in the midst of his loneliness.
The plunge into the river having broken Dick's pipeand destroyed his tobacco, he now felt the want of thatluxury very severely, and, never having wanted it before,he was greatly surprised to find how much he hadbecome enslaved to the habit. It cost him more thanan hour's rest that night, the craving for his wontedpipe.
The sagacious reader will doubtless not fail here toask himself the question, whether it is wise in man tocreate in himself an unnatural and totally unnecessaryappetite, which may, and often does, entail hours--ay,sometimes months--of exceeding discomfort; but wewould not for a moment presume to suggest such aquestion to him. We have a distinct objection to theordinary method of what is called "drawing a moral."It is much better to leave wise men to do this forthemselves.
Next morning Dick rose with the sun, and startedwithout breakfast, preferring to take his chance of findinga bird or animal of some kind before long, to feedingagain on sour berries. He was disappointed, however,in finding the tracks of his companions. The groundhere was hard and sandy, so that little or no impressionof a distinct kind was made on it; and as buffaloeshad traversed it in all directions, he was soon utterlybewildered. He thought it possible that, by runningout for several miles in a straight line, and then takinga wide circuit round, he might find the tracks emergingfrom the confusion made by the buffaloes. But he wasagain disappointed, for the buffalo tracks still continued,and the ground became less capable of showing a footprint.
Soon Dick began to feel so ill and weak from eatingsuch poor fare, that he gave up all hope of discoveringthe tracks, and was compelled to push forward at hisutmost speed in order to reach a less barren district,where he might procure fresh meat; but the farther headvanced the worse and more sandy did the districtbecome. For several days he pushed on over this aridwaste without seeing bird or beast, and, to add to hismisery, he failed at last to find water. For a day anda night he wandered about in a burning fever, and histhroat so parched that he was almost suffocated. Towardsthe close of the second day he saw a slight lineof bushes away down in a hollow on his right. Witheager steps he staggered towards them, and, on drawingnear, beheld--blessed sight!--a stream of water glancingin the beams of the setting sun.
Dick tried to shout for joy, but his parched throatrefused to give utterance to the voice. It matterednot. Exerting all his remaining strength he rusheddown the bank, dropped his rifle, and plunged headforemostinto the stream.
The first mouthful sent a thrill of horror to his heart;it was salt as brine!
The poor youth's cup of bitterness was now full tooverflowing. Crawling out of the stream, he sank downon the bank in a species of lethargic torpor, from which,he awakened next morning in a raging fever. Deliriumsoon rendered him insensible to his sufferings. Thesun rose like a ball of fire, and shone down with scorchingpower on the arid plain. What mattered it toDick? He was far away in the shady groves of theMustang Valley, chasing the deer at times, but morefrequently cooling his limbs and sporting with Crusoein the bright blue lake. Now he was in his mother'scottage, telling her how he had thought of her whenfar away on the prairie, and what a bright, sweet wordit was she had whispered in his ear--so unexpectedly,too. Anon he was scouring over the plains on horseback,with the savages at his heels; and at such timesDick would spring with almost supernatural strengthfrom the ground, and run madly over the burning plain;but, as if by a species of fascination, he always returnedto the salt river, and sank exhausted by its side, orplunged helplessly into its waters.
These sudden immersions usually restored him for ashort time to reason, and he would crawl up the bankand gnaw a morsel of the maple sugar; but he could noteat much, for it was in a tough, compact cake, whichhis jaws had not power to break. All that day andthe next night he lay on the banks of the salt stream,or rushed wildly over the plain. It was about noon ofthe second day after his attack that he crept slowlyout of the water, into which he had plunged a fewseconds before. His mind was restored, but he felt anindescribable sensation of weakness, that seemed to himto be the approach of death. Creeping towards theplace where his rifle lay, he fell exhausted beside it,and laid his cheek on the Bible, which had fallen outof his pocket there.
While his eyes were closed in a dreamy sort of half-wakingslumber, he felt the rough, hairy coat of an animalbrush against his forehead. The idea of being tornto pieces by wolves flashed instantly across his mind,and with a shriek of terror he sprang up--to be almostoverwhelmed by the caresses of his faithful dog.
Yes, there he was, bounding round his master, barkingand whining, and giving vent to every possibleexpression of canine joy!
CHAPTER XIV.
 Crusoe's return, and his private adventures among the Indians--Dickat a very low ebb--Crusoe saves him.
The means by which Crusoe managed to escapefrom his two-legged captors, and rejoin his master,require separate and special notice.
In the struggle with the fallen horse and Indian,which Dick had seen begun but not concluded, he wasalmost crushed to death; and the instant the Indiangained his feet, he sent an arrow at his head withsavage violence. Crusoe, however, had been so wellused to dodging the blunt-headed arrows that werewont to be shot at him by the boys of the MustangValley, that he was quite prepared, and eluded theshaft by an active bound. Moreover, he uttered one ofhis own peculiar roars, flew at the Indian's throat, anddragged him down. At the same moment the otherIndians came up, and one of them turned aside to therescue. This man happened to have an old gun, ofthe cheap sort at that time exchanged for peltries bythe fur-traders. With the butt of this he struckCrusoe a blow on the head that sent him sprawling onthe grass.
The rest of the savages, as we have seen, continuedin pursuit of Dick until he leaped into the river; thenthey returned, took the saddle and bridle off his deadhorse, and rejoined their comrades. Here they held acourt-martial on Crusoe, who was now bound foot andmuzzle with cords. Some were for killing him; others,who admired his noble appearance, immense size, andcourage, thought it would be well to carry him to theirvillage and keep him. There was a pretty violent disputeon the subject, but at length it was agreed thatthey should spare his life in the meantime, and perhapshave a dog-dance round him when they got to theirwigwams.
This dance, of which Crusoe was to be the chiefthough passive performer, is peculiar to some of thetribes east of the Rocky Mountains, and consists inkilling a dog and cutting out its liver, which is afterwardssliced into shreds or strings and hung on a poleabout the height of a man's head. A band of warriorsthen come and dance wildly round this pole, and eachone in succession goes up to the raw liver and bites apiece off it, without, however, putting his hands nearit. Such is the dog-dance, and to such was poor Crusoedestined by his fierce captors, especially by the onewhose throat still bore very evident marks of his teeth.
But Crusoe was much too clever a dog to be disposedof in so disgusting a manner. He had privately resolvedin his own mind that he would escape; but thehopelessness of his ever carrying that resolution intoeffect would have been apparent to any one who couldhave seen the way in which his muzzle was secured,and his four paws were tied together in a bunch, ashe hung suspended across the saddle of one of thesavages!
This particular party of Indians who had followedDick Varley determined not to wait for the return oftheir comrades who were in pursuit of the other twohunters, but to go straight home, so for several daysthey galloped away over the prairie. At nights, whenthey encamped, Crusoe was thrown on the ground likea piece of old lumber, and left to lie there with a merescrap of food till morning, when he was again thrownacross the horse of his captor and carried on. Whenthe village was reached, he was thrown again on theground, and would certainly have been torn to pieces infive minutes by the Indian curs which came howlinground him, had not an old woman come to the rescueand driven them away. With the help of her grand-son--alittle naked creature, just able to walk, or ratherto stagger--she dragged him to her tent, and, undoingthe line that fastened his mouth, offered him a bone.
Although lying in a position that was unfavourablefor eating purposes, Crusoe opened his jaws and took it.
An awful crash was followed by two crunches--and itwas gone! and Crusoe looked up in the old squaw'sface with a look that said plainly, "Another of the same,please, and as quick as possible." The old woman gavehim another, and then a lump of meat, which latterwent down with a gulp; but he coughed after it! andit was well he didn't choke. After this the squaw lefthim, and Crusoe spent the remainder of that nightgnawing the cords that bound him. So diligent washe that he was free before morning and walked deliberatelyout of the tent. Then he shook himself, andwith a yell that one might have fancied was intendedfor defiance he bounded joyfully away, and was soonout of sight.
To a dog with a good appetite which had been on shortallowance for several days, the mouthful given to him bythe old squaw was a mere nothing. All that day hekept bounding over the plain from bluff to bluff insearch of something to eat, but found nothing untildusk, when he pounced suddenly and most unexpectedlyon a prairie-hen fast asleep. In one moment its lifewas gone. In less than a minute its body was gonetoo--feathers and bones and all--down Crusoe's ravenousthroat.
On the identical spot Crusoe lay down and slept likea top for four hours. At the end of that time hejumped up, bolted a scrap of skin that somehow hadbeen overlooked at supper, and flew straight over theprairie to the spot where he had had the scuffle withthe Indian. He came to the edge of the river, tookprecisely the same leap that his master had done beforehim, and came out on the other side a good deal higherup than Dick had done, for the dog had no savages tododge, and was, as we have said before, a powerfulswimmer.
It cost him a good deal of running about to find thetrail, and it was nearly dark before he resumed hisjourney; then, putting his keen nose to the ground, heran step by step over Dick's track, and at last foundhim, as we have shown, on the banks of the salt creek.
It is quite impossible to describe the intense joywhich filled Dick's heart on again beholding his favourite.
Only those who have lost and found such an onecan know it. Dick seized him round the neck andhugged him as well as he could, poor fellow! in hisfeeble arms; then he wept, then he laughed, and thenhe fainted.
This was a consummation that took Crusoe quiteaback. Never having seen his master in such a statebefore he seemed to think at first that he was playingsome trick, for he bounded round him, and barked, andwagged his tail. But as Dick lay quite still andmotionless, he went forward with a look of alarm;snuffed him once or twice, and whined piteously; thenhe raised his nose in the air and uttered a long melancholywail.
The cry seemed to revive Dick, for he moved, andwith some difficulty sat up, to the dog's evident relief.
There is no doubt whatever that Crusoe learned anerroneous lesson that day, and was firmly convincedthenceforth that the best cure for a fainting fit is amelancholy yell. So easy is it for the wisest of dogsas well as men to fall into gross error!
"Crusoe," said Dick, in a feeble voice, "dear goodpup, come here." He crawled, as he spoke, down tothe water's edge, where there was a level patch of drysand.
"Dig," said Dick, pointing to the sand.
Crusoe looked at him in surprise, as well he might,for he had never heard the word "dig" in all his lifebefore.
Dick pondered a minute then a thought struck him.
He turned up a little of the sand with his fingers, and,pointing to the hole, cried, "Seek him out, pup!"Ha! Crusoe understood that. Many and many atime had he unhoused rabbits, and squirrels, and othercreatures at that word of command; so, without a moment'sdelay, he commenced to dig down into the sand,every now and then stopping for a moment and shovingin his nose, and snuffing interrogatively, as if he fullyexpected to find a buffalo at the bottom of it. Then hewould resume again, one paw after another so fast thatyou could scarce see them going--"hand over hand," assailors would have called it--while the sand flew outbetween his hind legs in a continuous shower. Whenthe sand accumulated so much behind him as to impedehis motions he scraped it out of his way, and set towork again with tenfold earnestness. After a goodwhile he paused and looked up at Dick with an"it-won't-do,-I-fear,-there's-nothing-here" expression on hisface.
"Seek him out, pup!" repeated Dick.
"Oh! very good," mutely answered the dog, and wentat it again, tooth and nail, harder than ever.
In the course of a quarter of an hour there was adeep yawning hole in the sand, into which Dick peeredwith intense anxiety. The bottom appeared slightlydamp. Hope now reanimated Dick Varley, and byvarious devices he succeeded in getting the dog to scrapeaway a sort of tunnel from the hole, into which hemight roll himself and put down his lips to drink whenthe water should rise high enough. Impatiently andanxiously he lay watching the moisture slowly accumulatein the bottom of the hole, drop by drop, and whilehe gazed he fell into a troubled, restless slumber, anddreamed that Crusoe's return was a dream, and that hewas alone again, perishing for want of water.
When he awakened the hole was half full of clearwater, and Crusoe was lapping it greedily.
"Back, pup!" he shouted, as he crept down to thehole and put his trembling lips to the water. It wasbrackish, but drinkable, and as Dick drank deeply ofit he esteemed it at that moment better than nectar.
Here he lay for half-an-hour, alternately drinking andgazing in surprise at his own emaciated visage as reflectedin the pool.
The same afternoon Crusoe, in a private hunting excursionof his own, discovered and caught a prairie-hen,which he quietly proceeded to devour on the spot, whenDick, who saw what had occurred, whistled to him.
Obedience was engrained in every fibre of Crusoe'smental and corporeal being. He did not merely answerat once to the call--he sprang to it, leaving the prairie-henuntasted.
"Fetch it, pup," cried Dick eagerly as the dog cameup.
In a few moments the hen was at his feet. Dick'scircumstances could not brook the delay of cookery; hegashed the bird with his knife and drank the blood, andthen gave the flesh to the dog, while he crept to thepool again for another draught. Ah! think not, reader,that although we have treated this subject in a slightvein of pleasantry, because it ended well, that thereforeour tale is pure fiction. Not only are Indians glad tosatisfy the urgent cravings of hunger with raw flesh,but many civilized men and delicately nurtured havedone the same--ay, and doubtless will do the sameagain, as long as enterprising and fearless men shall goforth to dare the dangers of flood and field in the wildplaces of our wonderful world!
Crusoe had finished his share of the feast before Dickreturned from the pool. Then master and dog lay downtogether side by side and fell into a long, deep, peacefulslumber.
CHAPTER XV.
 Health and happiness return--Incidents of the journey--Abuffalo shot--A wild horse "creased"--Dick's battle witha mustang.
Dick Varley's fears and troubles, in the meantime,were ended. On the day following heawoke refreshed and happy--so happy and light atheart, as he felt the glow of returning health coursingthrough his veins, that he fancied he must have dreamedit all. In fact, he was so certain that his muscles werestrong that he endeavoured to leap up, but was powerfullyconvinced of his true condition by the miserablestagger that resulted from the effort.
However, he knew he was recovering, so he rose, andthanking God for his recovery, and for the new hopethat was raised in his heart, he went down to the pooland drank deeply of its water. Then he returned, and,sitting down beside his dog, opened the Bible and readlong--and, for the first time, earnestly--the story ofChrist's love for sinful man. He at last fell asleep overthe book, and when he awakened felt so much refreshedin body and mind that he determined to attempt topursue his journey.
He had not proceeded far when he came upon acolony of prairie-dogs. Upon this occasion he was littleinclined to take a humorous view of the vagaries ofthese curious little creatures, but he shot one, and, asbefore, ate part of it raw. These creatures are so activethat they are difficult to shoot, and even when killedgenerally fall into their holes and disappear. Crusoe,however, soon unearthed the dead animal on this occasion.
That night the travellers came to a stream offresh water, and Dick killed a turkey, so that he determinedto spend a couple of days there to recruit. Atthe end of that time he again set out, but was able onlyto advance five miles when he broke down. In fact, itbecame evident to him that he must have a longer periodof absolute repose ere he could hope to continue hisjourney; but to do so without food was impossible.
Fortunately there was plenty of water, as his course layalong the margin of a small stream, and, as the aridpiece of prairie was now behind him, he hoped to fall inwith birds, or perhaps deer, soon.
While he was plodding heavily and wearily along,pondering these things, he came to the brow of a wavefrom which he beheld a most magnificent view of greengrassy plains decked with flowers, and rolling out tothe horizon, with a stream meandering through it, andclumps of trees scattered everywhere far and wide. Itwas a glorious sight; but the most glorious object in itto Dick, at that time, was a fat buffalo which stoodgrazing not a hundred yards off. The wind was blowingtowards him, so that the animal did not scent him,and, as he came up very slowly, and it was turned away,it did not see him.
Crusoe would have sprung forward in an instant, buthis master's finger imposed silence and caution. Tremblingwith eagerness, Dick sank flat down in the grass,cocked both barrels of his piece, and, resting it on hisleft hand with his left elbow on the ground, he waiteduntil the animal should present its side. In a fewseconds it moved; Dick's eye glanced along the barrel,but it trembled--his wonted steadiness of aim wasgone. He fired, and the buffalo sprang off in terror.
With a groan of despair he fired again---almost recklessly--andthe buffalo fell! It rose once or twice andstumbled forward a few paces, then it fell again. MeanwhileDick reloaded with trembling hand, and advancedto give it another shot; but it was not needful--thebuffalo was already dead.
"Now, Crusoe," said Dick, sitting down on the buffalo'sshoulder and patting his favourite on the head, "we'reall right at last. You and I shall have a jolly time o't,pup, from this time for'ard."Dick paused for breath, and Crusoe wagged his tailand looked as if to say--pshaw! "as if!"We tell you what it is, reader, it's of no use at all togo on writing "as if," when we tell you what Crusoesaid. If there is any language in eyes whatever--ifthere is language in a tail, in a cocked ear, in a mobileeyebrow, in the point of a canine nose,--if there islanguage in any terrestrial thing at all, apart from thatwhich flows from the tongue, then Crusoe spoke! Dowe not speak at this moment to you? and if so, thentell me wherein lies the difference between a writtenletter and a given sign?
Yes, Crusoe spoke. He said to Dick as plain as dogcould say it, slowly and emphatically, "That's my opinionprecisely, Dick. You're the dearest, most beloved, jolliestfellow that ever walked on two legs, you are; andwhatever's your opinion is mine, no matter how absurdit may be."Dick evidently understood him perfectly, for helaughed as he looked at him and patted him on thehead, and called him a "funny dog." Then he continuedhis discourse:--"Yes, pup, we'll make our camp here for a long bit,old dog, in this beautiful plain. We'll make a willowwigwam to sleep in, you and I, jist in yon clump o'
trees, not a stone's-throw to our right, where we'll havea run o' pure water beside us, and be near our buffaloat the same time. For, ye see, we'll need to watch himlest the wolves take a notion to eat him--that'll beyour duty, pup. Then I'll skin him when I get strongenough, which'll be in a day or two, I hope, and we'llput one-half of the skin below us and t'other half aboveus i' the camp, an' sleep, an' eat, an' take it easy for aweek or two--won't we, pup?""Hoora-a-a-y!" shouted Crusoe, with a jovial wag ofhis tail, that no human arm with hat, or cap, or kerchiefever equalled.
Poor Dick Varley! He smiled to think how earnestlyhe had been talking to the dog; but he did not cease todo it, for although he entered into discourses the driftof which Crusoe's limited education did not permit himto follow, he found comfort in hearing the sound of hisown voice, and in knowing that it fell pleasantly onanother ear in that lonely wilderness.
Our hero now set about his preparations as vigorouslyas he could. He cut out the buffalo's tongue--a matterof great difficulty to one in his weak state--and carriedit to a pleasant spot near to the stream where the turfwas level and green, and decked with wild flowers.
Here he resolved to make his camp.
His first care was to select a bush whose brancheswere long enough to form a canopy over his head whenbent, and the ends thrust into the ground. The completingof this exhausted him greatly, but after a resthe resumed his labours. The next thing was to light afire--a comfort which he had not enjoyed for manyweary days. Not that he required it for warmth, forthe weather was extremely warm, but he required it tocook with, and the mere sight of a blaze in a dark placeis a most heart-cheering thing, as every one knows.
When the fire was lighted he filled his pannikin atthe brook and put it on to boil, and cutting severalslices of buffalo tongue, he thrust short stakes throughthem and set them up before the fire to roast. By thistime the water was boiling, so he took it off with difficulty,nearly burning his fingers and singeing the tail ofhis coat in so doing. Into the pannikin he put a lumpof maple sugar, and stirred it about with a stick, andtasted it. It seemed to him even better than tea orcoffee. It was absolutely delicious!
Really one has no notion what he can do if he makesbelieve very hard. The human mind is a nicely balancedand extremely complex machine, and when thrown alittle off the balance can be made to believe almost anything,as we see in the case of some poor monomaniacs,who have fancied that they were made of all sorts ofthings--glass and porcelain, and such like. No wonderthen that poor Dick Varley, after so much suffering andhardship, came to regard that pannikin of hot sirup asthe most delicious beverage he ever drank.
During all these operations Crusoe sat on his haunchesbeside him and looked. And you haven't, no, youhaven't got the most distant notion of the way in whichthat dog manoeuvred with his head and face. He openedhis eyes wide, and cocked his ears, and turned his headfirst a little to one side, then a little to the other. Afterthat he turned it a good deal to one side, and then agood deal more to the other. Then he brought it straight,and raised one eyebrow a little, and then the other alittle, and then both together very much. Then, whenDick paused to rest and did nothing, Crusoe looked mildfor a moment, and yawned vociferously. Presently Dickmoved--up went the ears again, and Crusoe came, inmilitary parlance, "to the position of attention!" Atlast supper was ready and they began.
Dick had purposely kept the dog's supper back fromhim, in order that they might eat it in company. Andbetween every bite and sup that Dick took, he gave abite--but not a sup--to Crusoe. Thus lovingly theyate together; and when Dick lay that night under thewillow branches, looking up through them at the stars,with his feet to the fire and Crusoe close along his side,he thought it the best and sweetest supper he ever ate,and the happiest evening he ever spent--so wonderfullydo circumstances modify our notions of felicity.
Two weeks after this "Richard was himself again."The muscles were springy, and the blood coursed fastand free, as was its wont. Only a slight, and, perhaps,salutary feeling of weakness remained, to remind himthat young muscles might again become more helplessthan those of an aged man or a child.
Dick had left his encampment a week ago, and wasnow advancing by rapid stages towards the RockyMountains, closely following the trail of his lost comrades,which he had no difficulty in finding and keepingnow that Crusoe was with him. The skin of the buffalothat he had killed was now strapped to his shoulders,and the skin of another animal that he had shot a fewdays after was cut up into a long line and slung in acoil round his neck. Crusoe was also laden. He had alittle bundle of meat slung on each side of him.
For some time past numerous herds of mustangs, orwild horses, had crossed their path, and Dick was nowon the look-out for a chance to crease one of those magnificentcreatures.
On one occasion a band of mustangs galloped closeup to him before they were aware of his presence, andstopped short with a wild snort of surprise on beholdinghim; then, wheeling round, they dashed away at fullgallop, their long tails and manes flying wildly in theair, and their hoofs thundering on the plain. Dickdid not attempt to crease one upon this occasion, fearingthat his recent illness might have rendered his hand toounsteady for so extremely delicate an operation.
In order to crease a wild horse the hunter requiresto be a perfect shot, and it is not every man of the westwho carries a rifle that can do it successfully. Creasingconsists in sending a bullet through the gristle of themustang's neck, just above the bone, so as to stun theanimal. If the ball enters a hair's-breadth too low,the horse falls dead instantly. If it hits the exactspot, the horse falls as instantaneously, and dead to allappearance; but, in reality, he is only stunned, and ifleft for a few minutes will rise and gallop away nearlyas well as ever. When hunters crease a horse successfullythey put a rope, or halter, round his under jawand hobbles round his feet, so that when he rises heis secured, and, after considerable trouble, reduced toobedience.
The mustangs which roam in wild freedom on theprairies of the far west are descended from the nobleSpanish steeds that were brought over by the wealthycavaliers who accompanied Fernando Cortez, the conquerorof Mexico, in his expedition to the New World in1518. These bold, and, we may add, lawless cavalierswere mounted on the finest horses that could be procuredfrom Barbary and the deserts of the Old World. Thepoor Indians of the New World were struck with amazementand terror at these awful beings, for, never havingseen horses before, they believed that horse and riderwere one animal. During the wars that followed manyof the Spaniards were killed, and their steeds boundedinto the wilds of the new country, to enjoy a life ofunrestrained freedom. These were the forefathers ofthe present race of magnificent creatures which arefound in immense droves all over the western wilderness,from the Gulf of Mexico to the confines of thesnowy regions of the far north.
At first the Indians beheld these horses with awe andterror, but gradually they became accustomed to them,and finally succeeded in capturing great numbers andreducing them to a state of servitude. Not, however,to the service of the cultivated field, but to the serviceof the chase and war. The savages soon acquired themethod of capturing wild horses by means of the lasso--asthe noose at that end of a long line of raw hide istermed--which they adroitly threw over the heads ofthe animals and secured them, having previously runthem down. At the present day many of the savagetribes of the west almost live upon horseback, andwithout these useful creatures they could scarcely subsist,as they are almost indispensable in the chase ofthe buffalo.
Mustangs are regularly taken by the Indians to thesettlements of the white men for trade, but very poorspecimens are these of the breed of wild horses. Thisarises from two causes. First, the Indian cannot overtakethe finest of a drove of wild mustangs, because his ownsteed is inferior to the best among the wild ones, besidesbeing weighted with a rider, so that only the weak andinferior animals are captured. And, secondly, when theIndian does succeed in lassoing a first-rate horse hekeeps it for his own use. Thus, those who have notvisited the far-off prairies and seen the mustang in allthe glory of untrammelled freedom, can form no adequateidea of its beauty, fleetness, and strength.
The horse, however, was not the only creature importedby Cortez. There were priests in his army whorode upon asses, and although we cannot imagine thatthe "fathers" charged with the cavaliers and were unhorsed,or, rather, un-assed in battle, yet, somehow, theasses got rid of their riders and joined the Spanishchargers in their joyous bound into a new life of freedom.
Hence wild asses also are found in the westernprairies. But think not, reader, of those poor miserablewretches we see at home, which seem little better thanrough door-mats sewed up and stuffed, with head, tail,and legs attached, and just enough of life infused tomake them move! No, the wild ass of the prairie is alarge powerful, swift creature. He has the same longears, it is true, and the same hideous, exasperating bray,and the same tendency to flourish his heels; but for allthat he is a very fine animal, and often wages successfulwarfare with the wild horse.
But to return. The next drove of mustangs thatDick and Crusoe saw were feeding quietly and unsuspectinglyin a rich green hollow in the plain. Dick'sheart leaped up as his eyes suddenly fell on them, forhe had almost discovered himself before he was awareof their presence.
"Down, pup!" he whispered, as he sank and disappearedamong the grass, which was just long enoughto cover him when lying quite flat.
Crusoe crouched immediately, and his master madehis observations of the drove, and the dispositions ofthe ground that might favour his approach, for theywere not within rifle range. Having done so he creptslowly back until the undulation of the prairie hid himfrom view; then he sprang to his feet, and ran a considerabledistance along the bottom until he gained theextreme end of a belt of low bushes, which would effectuallyconceal him while he approached to within ahundred yards or less of the troop.
Here he made his arrangements. Throwing downhis buffalo robe, he took the coil of line and cut off apiece of about three yards in length. On this he madea running noose. The longer line he also preparedwith a running noose. These he threw in a coil overhis arm.
He also made a pair of hobbles, and placed them inthe breast of his coat, and then, taking up his rifle,advanced cautiously through the bushes--Crusoe followingclose behind him. In a few minutes he was gazingin admiration at the mustangs, which were now withineasy shot, and utterly ignorant of the presence of man,for Dick had taken care to approach in such a waythat the wind did not carry the scent of him in theirdirection.
And well might he admire them. The wild horse ofthese regions is not very large, but it is exceedinglypowerful, with prominent eye, sharp nose, distendednostril, small feet, and a delicate leg. Their beautifulmanes hung at great length down their arched necks,and their thick tails swept the ground. One magnificentfellow in particular attracted Dick's attention.
He was of a rich dark-brown colour, with black maneand tail, and seemed to be the leader of the drove.
Although not the nearest to him, he resolved to creasethis horse. It is said that creasing generally destroysor damages the spirit of the horse, so Dick determinedto try whether his powers of close shooting would not serve him onthisoccasion. Going down on one knee he aimed at the creature's neck, justahair's-breadthabove the spot where he had been told that huntersusually hit them, and fired. The effect upon the groupwas absolutely tremendous. With wild cries and snortingterror they tossed their proud heads in the air,uncertain for one moment in which direction to fly;then there was a rush as if a hurricane swept over theplace, and they were gone.
But the brown horse was down. Dick did not waituntil the others had fled. He dropped his rifle, andwith the speed of a deer sprang towards the fallenhorse, and affixed the hobbles to his legs. His aim hadbeen true. Although scarcely half a minute elapsedbetween the shot and the fixing of the hobbles, theanimal recovered, and with a frantic exertion rose onhis haunches, just as Dick had fastened the noose ofthe short line in his under jaw. But this was notenough. If the horse had gained his feet before thelonger line was placed round his neck, he would haveescaped. As the mustang made the second violentplunge that placed it on its legs, Dick flung the noosehastily; it caught on one ear, and would have fallenoff, had not the horse suddenly shaken its head, andunwittingly sealed its own fate by bringing the nooseround its neck.
And now the struggle began. Dick knew wellenough, from hearsay, the method of "breaking down"a wild horse. He knew that the Indians choke themwith the noose round the neck until they fall downexhausted and covered with foam, when they creep up,fix the hobbles, and the line in the lower jaw, and thenloosen the lasso to let the horse breathe, and resume itsplungings till it is almost subdued, when they graduallydraw near and breathe into its nostrils. But the violenceand strength of this animal rendered this anapparently hopeless task. We have already seen thatthe hobbles and noose in the lower jaw had been fixed,so that Dick had nothing now to do but to choke hiscaptive, and tire him out, while Crusoe remained a quietthough excited spectator of the scene.
But there seemed to be no possibility of choking thishorse. Either the muscles of his neck were too strong,or there was something wrong with the noose whichprevented it from acting, for the furious creature dashedand bounded backwards and sideways in its terror fornearly an hour, dragging Dick after it, till he wasalmost exhausted; and yet, at the end of that time,although flecked with foam and panting with terror,it seemed as strong as ever. Dick held both lines, forthe short one attached to its lower jaw gave him greatpower over it. At last he thought of seeking assistancefrom his dog.
"Crusoe," he cried, "lay hold, pup!"The dog seized the long line in his teeth and pulledwith all his might. At the same moment Dick let gothe short line and threw all his weight upon the longone. The noose tightened suddenly under this strain,and the mustang, with a gasp, fell choking to theground.
Dick had often heard of the manner in which theMexicans "break" their horses, so he determined toabandon the method which had already almost wornhim out, and adopt the other, as far as the means inhis power rendered it possible. Instead, therefore, ofloosening the lasso and re-commencing the struggle, hetore a branch from a neighbouring bush, cut the hobbles,strode with his legs across the fallen steed, seized theend of the short line or bridle, and then, ordering Crusoeto quit his hold, he loosened the noose which compressedthe horse's neck and had already well-nigh terminatedits existence.
One or two deep sobs restored it, and in a momentit leaped to its feet with Dick firmly on its back. Tosay that the animal leaped and kicked in its franticefforts to throw this intolerable burden would be a tamemanner of expressing what took place. Words cannotadequately describe the scene. It reared, plunged,shrieked, vaulted into the air, stood straight upon its hind legs, and then almost as straight upon its foreones; but its rider held on like a burr. Then themustang raced wildly forwards a few paces, then aswildly back, and then stood still and trembled violently.
But this was only a brief lull in the storm, so Dick sawthat the time was now come to assert the superiority ofhis race.
"Stay back, Crusoe, and watch my rifle, pup," hecried, and raising his heavy switch he brought it downwith a sharp cut across the horse's flank, at the sametime loosening the rein which hitherto he had heldtight.
The wild horse uttered a passionate cry, and sprangforward like the bolt from a cross-bow.
And now commenced a race which, if not so prolonged,was at least as furious as that of the far-famedMazeppa. Dick was a splendid rider, however--atleast as far as "sticking on" goes. He might nothave come up to the precise pitch desiderated by ariding-master in regard to carriage, etc., but he rodethat wild horse of the prairie with as much ease as hehad formerly ridden his own good steed, whose boneshad been picked by the wolves not long ago.
The pace was tremendous, for the youth's weightwas nothing to that muscular frame, which boundedwith cat-like agility from wave to wave of the undulatingplain in ungovernable terror. In a few minutesthe clump of willows where Crusoe and his rifle laywere out of sight behind; but it mattered not, for Dickhad looked up at the sky and noted the position of thesun at the moment of starting. Away they went onthe wings of the wind, mile after mile over the ocean-likewaste--curving slightly aside now and then toavoid the bluffs that occasionally appeared on thescene for a few minutes and then swept out of sightbehind them. Then they came to a little rivulet. Itwas a mere brook of a few feet wide, and two or threeyards, perhaps, from bank to bank. Over this theyflew so easily that the spring was scarcely felt, andcontinued the headlong course. And now a morebarren country was around them. Sandy ridges andscrubby grass appeared everywhere, reminding Dick ofthe place where he had been so ill. Rocks, too, werescattered about, and at one place the horse dashedwith clattering hoofs between a couple of rocky sand-hills which, fora fewseconds, hid the prairie fromview. Here the mustang suddenly shied with suchviolence that his rider was nearly thrown, while arattlesnake darted from the path. Soon they emergedfrom this pass, and again the plains became green andverdant. Presently a distant line of trees showed thatthey were approaching water, and in a few minutesthey were close on it. For the first time Dick feltalarm. He sought to check his steed, but no force hecould exert had the smallest influence on it.
Trees and bushes flew past in bewildering confusion.
The river was before him; what width, he could nottell, but he was reckless now, like his charger, which hestruck with the willow rod with all his force as theycame up. One tremendous bound, and they wereacross, but Dick had to lie flat on the mustang's backas it crashed through the bushes to avoid being scrapedoff by the trees. Again they were on the open plain,and the wild horse began to show signs of exhaustion.
Now was its rider's opportunity to assert his dominion.
He plied the willow rod and urged the pantinghorse on, until it was white with foam and laboureda little in its gait. Then Dick gently drew the halter,and it broke into a trot; still tighter, and it walked,and in another minute stood still, trembling in everylimb. Dick now quietly rubbed its neck, and spoketo it in soothing tones; then he wheeled it gentlyround, and urged it forward. It was quite subduedand docile. In a little time they came to the riverand forded it, after which they went through the beltof woodland at a walk. By the time they reached theopen prairie the mustang was recovered sufficiently tofeel its spirit returning, so Dick gave it a gentle touchwith the switch, and away they went on their returnjourney.
But it amazed Dick not a little to find how longthat journey was. Very different was the pace, too,from the previous mad gallop, and often would the poorhorse have stopped had Dick allowed him. But thismight not be. The shades of night were approaching,and the camp lay a long way ahead.
At last it was reached, and Crusoe came out withgreat demonstrations of joy, but was sent back lest heshould alarm the horse. Then Dick jumped off hisback, stroked his head, put his cheek close to hismouth and whispered softly to him, after which hefastened him to a tree and rubbed him down slightlywith a bunch of grass. Having done this, he left himto graze as far as his tether would permit; and, aftersupping with Crusoe, lay down to-rest, not a littleelated with his success in this first attempt at "creasing"and "breaking" a mustang.
CHAPTER XVI.
 Dick becomes a horse tamer--Resumes his journey--Charlie'sdoings--Misfortunes which lead to, but do not terminate in, the RockyMountains--A grizzly bear.
There is a proverb--or a saying--or at leastsomebody or book has told us, that some Irishmanonce said, "Be aisy; or, if ye can't be aisy, be asaisy as ye can."Now, we count that good advice, and strongly recommendit to all and sundry. Had we been at theside of Dick Varley on the night after his taming ofthe wild horse, we would have strongly urged thatadvice upon him. Whether he would have listenedto it or not is quite another question; we rather thinknot. Reader, if you wish to know why, go and dowhat he did, and if you feel no curious sensationsabout the region of the loins after it, we will tell youwhy Dick Varley wouldn't have listened to that advice.
Can a man feel as if his joints were wrenchedout of their sockets, and listen to advice--be thatadvice good or bad? Can he feel as though thesejoints were trying to re-set and re-dislocate themselvesperpetually, and listen to advice? Can he feel as ifhe were sitting down on red-hot iron, when he's notsitting down at all, and listen to advice? Can he--butno! why pursue the subject. Poor Dick spentthat night in misery, and the greater part of the followingday in sleep, to make up for it.
When he got up to breakfast in the afternoon he feltmuch better, but shaky.
"Now, pup," he said, stretching himself, "we'll goand see our horse. Ours, pup; yours and mine: didn'tyou help to catch him, eh, pup?"Crusoe acknowledged the fact with a wag and a playful"bow-wow--wow-oo-ow!" and followed his masterto the place where the horse had been picketed. Itwas standing there quite quiet, but looking a littletimid.
Dick went boldly up to it, and patted its head andstroked its nose, for nothing is so likely to alarm eithera tame or a wild horse as any appearance of timidity orhesitation on the part of those who approach them.
After treating it thus for a short time, he strokeddown its neck, and then its shoulders--the horse eyinghim all the time nervously. Gradually he strokedits back and limbs gently, and walked quietly roundand round it once or twice, sometimes approachingand sometimes going away, but never either hesitatingor doing anything abruptly. This done, he went downto the stream and filled his cap with water and carriedit to the horse, which snuffed suspiciously and backeda little; so he laid the cap down, and went up andpatted him again. Presently he took up the cap andcarried it to his nose. The poor creature was almostchoking with thirst, so that, the moment he understoodwhat was in the cap, he buried his lips in it and suckedit up.
This was a great point gained: he had accepted abenefit at the hands of his new master; he had becomea debtor to man, and no doubt he felt the obligation.
Dick filled the cap and the horse emptied itagain, and again, and again, until its burning thirstwas slaked. Then Dick went up to his shoulder, pattedhim, undid the line that fastened him, and vaultedlightly on his back!
We say lightly, for it was so, but it wasn't easily, asDick could have told you! However, he was determinednot to forego the training of his steed on accountof what he would have called a "little bit pain."At this unexpected act the horse plunged and reareda good deal, and seemed inclined to go through the performanceof the day before over again; but Dick pattedand stroked him into quiescence, and having done so,urged him into a gallop over the plains, causing the dogto gambol round in order that he might get accustomedto him. This tried his nerves a good deal, and no wonder,for if he took Crusoe for a wolf, which no doubt he did,he must have thought him a very giant of the pack.
By degrees they broke into a furious gallop, andafter breathing him well, Dick returned and tied himto the tree. Then he rubbed him down again, andgave him another drink. This time the horse smelthis new master all over, and Dick felt that he hadconquered him by kindness. No doubt the tremendousrun of the day before could scarcely be calledkindness, but without this subduing run he never couldhave brought the offices of kindness to bear on so wilda steed.
During all these operations Crusoe sat looking onwith demure sagacity--drinking in wisdom and takingnotes. We know not whether any notes made by thecanine race have ever been given to the world, butcertain are we that, if the notes and observations madeby Crusoe on that journey were published, they would,to say the least, surprise us!
Next day Dick gave the wild horse his second lesson,and his name. He called him "Charlie," after a much-lovedcompanion in the Mustang Valley. And long andheartily did Dick Varley laugh as he told the horse hisfuture designation in the presence of Crusoe, for it struckhim as somewhat ludicrous that a mustang which, twodays ago, pawed the earth in all the pride of independentfreedom, should suddenly come down so low as to carrya hunter on his back and be named Charlie.
The next piece of instruction began by Crusoe beingled up under Charlie's nose, and while Dick patted thedog with his right hand he patted the horse with hisleft. It backed a good deal at first and snorted, butCrusoe walked slowly and quietly in front of himseveral times, each time coming nearer, until he againstood under his nose; then the horse smelt him nervously,and gave a sigh of relief when he found thatCrusoe paid no attention to him whatever. Dick thenordered the dog to lie down at Charlie's feet, and wentto the camp to fetch his rifle, and buffalo robe, andpack of meat. These and all the other things belongingto him were presented for inspection, one by one,to the horse, who arched his neck, and put forward hisears, and eyed them at first, but smelt them all over,and seemed to feel more easy in his mind.
Next, the buffalo robe was rubbed over his nose, thenover his eyes and head, then down his neck and shoulder,and lastly was placed on his back. Then it was takenoff and flung on; after that it was strapped on, and thevarious little items of the camp were attached to it.
This done, Dick took up his rifle and let him smell it;then he put his hand on Charlie's shoulder, vaulted onto his back, and rode away.
Charlie's education was completed. And now ourhero's journey began again in earnest, and with someprospect of its speedy termination.
In this course of training through which Dick puthis wild horse, he had been at much greater pains andhad taken far longer time than is usually the case amongthe Indians, who will catch, and "break," and ride awild horse into camp in less than three hours. ButDick wanted to do the thing well, which the Indiansare not careful to do; besides, it must be borne in remembrancethat this was his first attempt, and that hishorse was one of the best and most high-spirited, whilethose caught by the Indians, as we have said, are generallythe poorest of a drove.
Dick now followed the trail of his lost companions ata rapid pace, yet not so rapidly as he might have done,being averse to exhausting his good dog and his newcompanion. Each night he encamped under the shadeof a tree or a bush when he could find one, or in theopen prairie when there were none, and, picketing hishorse to a short stake or pin which he carried with himfor the purpose, lit his fire, had supper, and lay downto rest. In a few days Charlie became so tame and soaccustomed to his master's voice that he seemed quitereconciled to his new life. There can be no doubt whateverthat he had a great dislike to solitude; for on oneoccasion, when Dick and Crusoe went off a mile or sofrom the camp, where Charlie was tied, and disappearedfrom his view, he was heard to neigh so loudly thatDick ran back, thinking the wolves must have attackedhim. He was all right, however, and exhibited evidenttokens of satisfaction when they returned.
On another occasion his fear of being left alone wasmore clearly demonstrated.
Dick had been unable to find wood or water that day,so he was obliged to encamp upon the open plain. Thewant of water was not seriously felt, however, for hehad prepared a bladder in which he always carriedenough to give him one pannikin of hot sirup, andleave a mouthful for Crusoe and Charlie. Dried buffalodung formed a substitute for fuel. Spreading his buffalorobe, he lit his fire, put on his pannikin to boil, andstuck up a piece of meat to roast, to the great delightof Crusoe, who sat looking on with much interest.
Suddenly Charlie, who was picketed a few hundredyards off in a grassy spot, broke his halter close by theheadpiece, and with a snort of delight bounded away,prancing and kicking up his heels!
Dick heaved a deep sigh, for he felt sure that hishorse was gone. However, in a little Charlie stopped,and raised his nose high in the air, as if to look forhis old equine companions. But they were gone; noanswering neigh replied to his; and he felt, probablyfor the first time, that he was really alone in the world.
Having no power of smell, whereby he might havetraced them out as the dog would have done, he lookedin a bewildered and excited state all round the horizon.
Then his eye fell on Dick and Crusoe sitting by theirlittle fire. Charlie looked hard at them, and then againat the horizon; and then, coming to the conclusion, nodoubt, that the matter was quite beyond his comprehension,he quietly took to feeding.
Dick availed himself of the chance, and tried to catchhim; but he spent an hour with Crusoe in the vainattempt, and at last they gave it up in disgust and returnedto the fire, where they finished their supper andwent to bed.
Next morning they saw Charlie feeding close at hand,so they took breakfast, and tried to catch him again.
But it was of no use; he was evidently coquetting withthem, and dodged about and defied their utmost efforts,for there were only a few inches of line hanging to hishead. At last it occurred to Dick that he would trythe experiment of forsaking him. So he packed up histhings, rolled up the buffalo robe, threw it and the rifleon his shoulder, and walked deliberately away.
"Come along, Crusoe!" he cried, after walking a fewpaces.
But Crusoe stood by the fire with his head up, andan expression on his face that said, "Hallo, man! what'swrong? You've forgot Charlie! Hold on! Are youmad?""Come here, Crusoe!" cried his master in a decidedtone.
Crusoe obeyed at once. Whatever mistake theremight be, there was evidently none in that command;so he lowered his head and tail humbly, and trotted onwith his master, but he perpetually turned his head ashe went, first on this side and then on that, to look andwonder at Charlie.
When they were far away on the plain, Charlie suddenlybecame aware that something was wrong. Hetrotted to the brow of a slope, with his head and tailvery high up indeed, and looked after them; then helooked at the fire, and neighed; then he trotted quicklyup to it, and seeing that everything was gone he beganto neigh violently, and at last started off at full speed,and overtook his friends, passing within a few feet ofthem, and, wheeling round a few yards off, stood tremblinglike an aspen leaf.
Dick called him by his name and advanced, whileCharlie met him half-way, and allowed himself to besaddled, bridled, and mounted forthwith.
After this Dick had no further trouble with his wildhorse.
At his next camping-place, which was in the midst ofa cluster of bushes close beside a creek, Dick came unexpectedlyupon a little wooden cross which marked thehead of a grave. There was no inscription on it, but theChristian symbol told that it was the grave of a whiteman. It is impossible to describe the rush of mingledfeelings that filled the soul of the young hunter as heleaned on the muzzle of his rifle and looked at thissolitary resting-place of one who, doubtless like himself,had been a roving hunter. Had he been young or oldwhen he fell? had he a mother in the distant settlementwho watched and longed and waited for the sonthat was never more to gladden her eyes? had he beenmurdered, or had he died there and been buried by hissorrowing comrades? These and a thousand questionspassed rapidly through his mind as he gazed at the littlecross.
Suddenly he started. "Could it be the grave of Joeor Henri?" For an instant the idea sent a chill to hisheart; but it passed quickly, for a second glance showedthat the grave was old, and that the wooden cross hadstood over it for years.
Dick turned away with a saddened heart; and thatnight, as he pored over the pages of his Bible, his mindwas filled with many thoughts about eternity and theworld to come. He, too, must come to the grave oneday, and quit the beautiful prairies and his lovedrifle. It was a sad thought; but while he meditatedhe thought upon his mother. "After all," he murmured,"there must be happiness without the rifle, and youth,and health, and the prairie! My mother's happy, yetshe don't shoot, or ride like wild-fire over the plains."Then that word which had been sent so sweetly to himthrough her hand came again to his mind, "My son,give me thine heart;" and as he read God's Book, hemet with the word, "Delight thyself in the Lord, and heshall give thee the desire of thine heart." "The desireof thine heart" Dick repeated this, and pondered ittill he fell asleep.
A misfortune soon after this befell Dick Varley whichwell-nigh caused him to give way to despair. For sometime past he had been approaching the eastern slopesof the Rocky Mountains--those ragged, jagged, mightyhills which run through the whole continent from northto south in a continuous chain, and form, as it were, thebackbone of America. One morning, as he threw thebuffalo robe off his shoulders and sat up, he was horrifiedto find the whole earth covered with a mantle of snow.
We say he was horrified, for this rendered it absolutelyimpossible any further to trace his companions either byscent or sight.
For some time he sat musing bitterly on his sad fate,while his dog came and laid his head sympathizingly onhis arm.
"Ah, pup!" he said, "I know ye'd help me if yecould! But it's all up now; there's no chance of findin'
them--none!"To this Crusoe replied by a low whine. He knewfull well that something distressed his master, but hehadn't yet ascertained what it was. As something hadto be done, Dick put the buffalo robe on his steed, andmounting said, as he was in the habit of doing eachmorning, "Lead on, pup."Crusoe put his nose to the ground and ran forward afew paces, then he returned and ran about snuffing andscraping up the snow. At last he looked up and uttereda long melancholy howl.
"Ah! I knowed it," said Dick, pushing forward.
"Come on, pup; you'll have to follow now. Any waywe must go on."The snow that had fallen was not deep enough tooffer the slightest obstruction to their advance. It was,indeed, only one of those occasional showers common tothat part of the country in the late autumn, whichseason had now crept upon Dick almost before he wasaware of it, and he fully expected that it would meltaway in a few days. In this hope he kept steadilyadvancing, until he found himself in the midst of thoserocky fastnesses which divide the waters that flow intothe Atlantic from those that flow into the Pacific Ocean.
Still the slight crust of snow lay on the ground, and hehad no means of knowing whether he was going in theright direction or not.
Game was abundant, and there was no lack of woodnow, so that his night bivouac was not so cold or drearyas might have been expected.
Travelling, however, had become difficult, and evendangerous, owing to the rugged nature of the groundover which he proceeded. The scenery had completelychanged in its character. Dick no longer coursed overthe free, open plains, but he passed through beautifulvalleys filled with luxuriant trees, and hemmed in bystupendous mountains, whose rugged sides rose upwarduntil the snow-clad peaks pierced the clouds.
There was something awful in these dark solitudes,quite overwhelming to a youth of Dick's temperament.
His heart began to sink lower and lower every day, andthe utter impossibility of making up his mind what todo became at length agonizing. To have turned andgone back the hundreds of miles over which he hadtravelled would have caused him some anxiety underany circumstances, but to do so while Joe and Henriwere either wandering about there or in the power ofthe savages was, he felt, out of the question. Yet inwhich way should he go? Whatever course he tookmight lead him farther and farther away from them.
In this dilemma he came to the determination ofremaining where he was, at least until the snow shouldleave the ground.
He felt great relief even when this hopeless coursewas decided upon, and set about making himself an encampmentwith some degree of cheerfulness. When hehad completed this task, he took his rifle, and leavingCharlie picketed in the centre of a dell, where the long,rich grass rose high above the snow, went off to hunt.
On turning a rocky point his heart suddenly boundedinto his throat, for there, not thirty yards distant, stooda huge grizzly bear!
Yes, there he was at last, the monster to meet whichthe young hunter had so often longed--the terrible sizeand fierceness of which he had heard so often spokenabout by the old hunters. There it stood at last; butlittle did Dick Varley think that the first time he shouldmeet with his foe should be when alone in the dark recessesof the Rocky Mountains, and with none to succourhim in the event of the battle going against him. Yes,there was one. The faithful Crusoe stood by his side,with his hair bristling, all his formidable teeth exposed,and his eyes glaring in their sockets. Alas for poorCrusoe had he gone into that combat alone! One strokeof that monster's paw would have hurled him dead uponthe ground.
CHAPTER XVII.
 Dick's first fight with a grizzly--Adventure with adeer--A surprise.
There is no animal in all the land so terrible anddangerous as the grizzly bear. Not only is he thelargest of the species in America, but he is the fiercest,the strongest, and the most tenacious of life--facts whichare so well understood that few of the western hunterslike to meet him single-handed, unless they happento be first-rate shots; and the Indians deem the encounterso dangerous that to wear a collar composedof the claws of a grizzly bear of his own killing iscounted one of the highest honours to which a youngwarrior can attain.
The grizzly bear resembles the brown bear of Europe,but it is larger, and the hair is long, the points beingof a paler shade. About the head there is a considerablemixture of gray hair, giving it the "grizzly" appearancefrom which it derives its name. The claws aredirty white, arched, and very long, and so strong thatwhen the animal strikes with its paw they cut like achisel. These claws are not embedded in the paw, asis the case with the cat, but always project far beyondthe hair, thus giving to the foot a very ungainly appearance.
They are not sufficiently curved to enable thegrizzly bear to climb trees, like the black and brownbears; and this inability on their part is often the onlyhope of the pursued hunter, who, if he succeeds inascending a tree, is safe, for the time at least, from thebear's assaults. But "Caleb" is a patient creature, andwill often wait at the foot of the tree for many hoursfor his victim.
The average length of his body is about nine feet,but he sometimes attains to a still larger growth.
Caleb is more carnivorous in his habits than otherbears; but, like them, he does not object to indulgeoccasionally in vegetable diet, being partial to the bird-cherry,the choke-berry, and various shrubs. He hasa sweet tooth, too, and revels in honey--when he canget it.
The instant the grizzly bear beheld Dick Varleystanding in his path, he rose on his hind legs and madea loud hissing noise, like a man breathing quick, butmuch harsher. To this Crusoe replied by a deep growl,and showing the utmost extent of his teeth, gums andall; and Dick cocked both barrels of his rifle.
To say that Dick Varley felt no fear would be simplyto make him out that sort of hero which does not existin nature--namely, a perfect hero. He did feel asensationas if his bowels had suddenly melted into water!
Let not our reader think the worse of Dick for this.
There is not a man living who, having met with a hugegrizzly bear for the first time in his life in a wild, solitaryplace, all alone, has not experienced some suchsensation. There was no cowardice in this feeling.
Fear is not cowardice. Acting in a wrong and contemptiblemanner because of our fear is cowardice.
It is said that Wellington or Napoleon, we forgetwhich, once stood watching the muster of the men whowere to form the forlorn-hope in storming a citadel.
There were many brave, strong, stalwart men there, inthe prime of life, and flushed with the blood of highhealth and courage. There were also there a few stern-browedmen of riper years, who stood perfectly silent,with lips compressed, and as pale as death. "Yonderveterans," said the general, pointing to these soldiers,"are men whose courage I can depend on; they knowwhat they are going to, the others don't!" Yes, theseyoung soldiers very probably were brave; the otherscertainly were.
Dick Varley stood for a few seconds as if thunderstruck,while the bear stood hissing at him. Then theliquefaction of his interior ceased, and he felt a glowof fire gush through his veins. Now Dick knew wellenough that to fly from a grizzly bear was the sure andcertain way of being torn to pieces, as when taken thusby surprise they almost invariably follow a retreatingenemy. He also knew that if he stood where he was,perfectly still, the bear would get uncomfortable underhis stare, and would retreat from him. But he neitherintended to run away himself nor to allow the bear todo so; he intended to kill it, so he raised his rifle quickly,"drew a bead," as the hunters express it, on the bear'sheart, and fired.
It immediately dropped on its fore legs and rushedat him.
"Back, Crusoe! out of the way, pup!" shouted Dick, ashis favourite was about to spring forward.
The dog retired, and Dick leaped behind a tree. Asthe bear passed he gave it the contents of the secondbarrel behind the shoulder, which brought it down; butin another moment it rose and again rushed at him.
Dick had no time to load, neither had he time to springup the thick tree beside which he stood, and the rockynature of the ground out of which it grew rendered itimpossible to dodge round it. His only resource wasflight; but where was he to fly to? If he ran alongthe open track, the bear would overtake him in a fewseconds. On the right was a sheer precipice one hundredfeet high; on the left was an impenetrable thicket. Indespair he thought for an instant of clubbing his rifleand meeting the monster in close conflict; but the utterhopelessness of such an effort was too apparent to beentertained for a moment. He glanced up at the overhangingcliffs. There were one or two rents and projectionsclose above him. In the twinkling of an eyehe sprang up and grasped a ledge of about an inchbroad, ten or twelve feet up, to which he clung whilehe glanced upward. Another projection was withinreach; he gained it, and in a few seconds he stood upona ledge about twenty feet up the cliff, where he had justroom to plant his feet firmly.
Without waiting to look behind, he seized his powder-hornand loaded one barrel of his rifle; and well was itfor him that his early training had fitted him to do thiswith rapidity, for the bear dashed up the precipice afterhim at once. The first time it missed its hold, and fellback with a savage growl; but on the second attemptit sunk its long claws into the fissures between the rocks,and ascended steadily till within a foot of the placewhere Dick stood.
At this moment Crusoe's obedience gave way beforea sense of Dick's danger. Uttering one of his lion-likeroars, he rushed up the precipice with such violencethat, although naturally unable to climb, he reached andseized the bear's flank, despite his master's stern orderto "keep back," and in a moment the two rolled downthe face of the rock together, just as Dick completedloading.
Knowing that one stroke of the bear's paw would becertain death to his poor dog, Dick leaped from hisperch, and with one bound reached the ground at thesame moment with the struggling animals, and closebeside them, and, before they had ceased rolling, heplaced the muzzle of his rifle into the bear's ear, andblew out its brains.
Crusoe, strange to say, escaped with only one scratchon the side. It was a deep one, but not dangerous, andgave him but little pain at the time, although it causedhim many a smart for some weeks after.
Thus happily ended Dick's first encounter with agrizzly bear; and although, in the course of his wildlife, he shot many specimens of "Caleb," he used to saythat "he an' pup were never so near goin' under as onthe day he dropped that bar!"Having refreshed himself with a long draught froma neighbouring rivulet, and washed Crusoe's wound,Dick skinned the bear on the spot.
"We chawed him up that time, didn't we, pup?"said Dick, with a smile of satisfaction, as he surveyedhis prize.
Crusoe looked up and assented to this.
"Gave us a hard tussle, though; very nigh sent usboth under, didn't he, pup?"Crusoe agreed entirely, and, as if the remark remindedhim of honourable scars, he licked his wound.
"Ah, pup!" cried Dick, sympathetically, "does't hurtye, eh, poor dog?"Hurt him? such a question! No, he should thinknot; better ask if that leap from the precipice hurtyourself.
So Crusoe might have said, but he didn't; he tookno notice of the remark whatever.
"We'll cut him up now, pup," continued Dick.
"The skin'll make a splendid bed for you an' me o'
nights, and a saddle for Charlie."Dick cut out all the claws of the bear by the roots,and spent the remainder of that night in cleaning themand stringing them on a strip of leather to form anecklace. Independently of the value of these enormousclaws (the largest as long as a man's middle finger) asan evidence of prowess, they formed a remarkably gracefulcollar, which Dick wore round his neck ever afterwith as much pride as if he had been a Pawnee warrior.
When it was finished he held it out at arm's-length,and said, "Crusoe, my pup, ain't ye proud of it? I'lltell ye what it is, pup, the next time you an' I floorCaleb, I'll put the claws round your neck, an' make yewear em ever arter, so I will."The dog did not seem quite to appreciate this pieceof prospective good fortune. Vanity had no place inhis honest breast, and, sooth to say, it had not a largeplace in that of his master either, as we may well grantwhen we consider that this first display of it was on theoccasion of his hunter's soul having at last realized itsbrightest day-dream.
Dick's dangers and triumphs seemed to accumulateon him rather thickly at this place, for on the verynext day he had a narrow escape of being killed by adeer. The way of it was this.
Having run short of meat, and not being particularlyfond of grizzly bear steak, he shouldered his rifle andsallied forth in quest of game, accompanied by Crusoe,whose frequent glances towards his wounded sideshowed that, whatever may have been the case the daybefore, it "hurt" him now.
They had not gone far when they came on the trackof a deer in the snow, and followed it up till they spieda magnificent buck about three hundred yards off,standing in a level patch of ground which was everywheresurrounded either by rocks or thicket. It was along shot, but as the nature of the ground rendered itimpossible for Dick to get nearer without being seen,he fired, and wounded the buck so badly that he cameup with it in a few minutes. The snow had drifted inthe place where it stood bolt upright, ready for a spring,so Dick went round a little way, Crusoe following, tillhe was in a proper position to fire again. Just as hepulled the trigger, Crusoe gave a howl behind him anddisturbed his aim, so that he feared he had missed; butthe deer fell, and he hurried towards it. On comingup, however, the buck sprang to its legs, rushed at himwith its hair bristling, knocked him down in the snow,and deliberately commenced stamping him to death.
Dick was stunned for a moment, and lay quite still,so the deer left off pommelling him, and stood lookingat him. But the instant he moved it plunged at himagain and gave him another pounding, until he wascontent to lie still. This was done several times, andDick felt his strength going fast. He was surprisedthat Crusoe did not come to his rescue, and once hecleared his mouth and whistled to him; but as thedeer gave him another pounding for this, he didn'tattempt it again. He now for the first time bethoughthim of his knife, and quietly drew it from his belt;but the deer observed the motion, and was on himagain in a moment. Dick, however, sprang up on hisleft elbow, and making several desperate thrusts upward,succeeded in stabbing the animal to the heart.
Rising and shaking the snow from his garments, hewhistled loudly to Crusoe, and, on listening, heard himwhining piteously. He hurried to the place whencethe sound came, and found that the poor dog had falleninto a deep pit or crevice in the rocks, which had beenconcealed from view by a crust of snow, and he wasnow making frantic but unavailing efforts to leap out.
Dick soon freed him from his prison by means ofhis belt, which he let down for the dog to grasp, andthen returned to camp with as much deer-meat as hecould carry. Dear meat it certainly was to him, for ithad nearly cost him his life, and left him all black andblue for weeks after. Happily no bones were broken,so the incident only confined him a day to his encampment.
Soon after this the snow fell thicker than ever, andit became evident that an unusually early winter wasabout to set in among the mountains. This was aterrible calamity, for if the regular snow of winter setin, it would be impossible for him either to advance orretreat.
While he was sitting on his bearskin by the camp-fireone day, thinking anxiously what he should do, andfeeling that he must either make the attempt to escapeor perish miserably in that secluded spot, a strange, unwontedsound struck upon his ear, and caused both himand Crusoe to spring violently to their feet and listen.
Could he be dreaming?--it seemed like the sound ofhuman voices. For a moment he stood with his eyesrivetted on the ground, his lips apart, and his nostrilsdistended, as he listened with the utmost intensity.
Then he darted out and bounded round the edge of arock which concealed an extensive but narrow valleyfrom his view, and there, to his amazement, he beheld aband of about a hundred human beings advancing onhorseback slowly through the snow.
CHAPTER XVIII.
 A surprise, and a piece of good news--The fur-traders--Crusoeproved, and the Peigans pursued.
Dick's first and most natural impulse, on beholdingthis band, was to mount his horse and fly, forhis mind naturally enough recurred to the former roughtreatment he had experienced at the hands of Indians.
On second thoughts, however, he considered it wiser tothrow himself upon the hospitality of the strangers;"for," thought he, "they can but kill me, an' if I remainhere I'm like to die at any rate."So Dick mounted his wild horse, grasped his rifle inhis right hand, and, followed by Crusoe, galloped fulltilt down the valley to meet them.
He had heard enough of the customs of savage tribes,and had also of late experienced enough, to convincehim that when a man found himself in the midst of anoverwhelming force, his best policy was to assume anair of confident courage. He therefore approached themat his utmost speed.
The effect upon the advancing band was electrical;and little wonder, for the young hunter's appearancewas very striking. His horse, from having rested agood deal of late, was full of spirit. Its neck wasarched, its nostrils expanded, and its mane and tailnever having been checked in their growth flew wildlyaround him in voluminous curls. Dick's own hair, nothaving been clipped for many months, appeared scarcelyless wild, as they thundered down the rocky pass atwhat appeared a break-neck gallop. Add to this thegrandeur of the scene out of which they sprang, andthe gigantic dog that bounded by his side, and you willnot be surprised to hear that the Indian warriors clusteredtogether, and prepared to receive this bold horsemanas if he, in his own proper person, were a completesquadron of cavalry. It is probable, also, that theyfully expected the tribe of which Dick was the chief tobe at his heels.
As he drew near the excitement among the strangersseemed very great, and, from the peculiarity of thevarious cries that reached him, he knew that there werewomen and children in the band--a fact which, in sucha place and at such a season, was so unnatural that itsurprised him very much. He noted also that, thoughthe men in front were Indians, their dresses were thoseof trappers and hunters, and he almost leaped out of hissaddle when he observed that "Pale-faces" were amongthem. But he had barely time to note these facts whenhe was up with the band. According to Indian custom,he did not check his speed till he was within four orfive yards of the advance-guard, who stood in a linebefore him, quite still, and with their rifles lying looselyin their left palms; then he reined his steed almost onits haunches.
One of the Indians advanced and spoke a few wordsin a language which was quite unintelligible to Dick,who replied, in the little Pawnee he could muster, thathe didn't understand him.
"Why, you must be a trapper!" exclaimed a thick-set,middle-aged man, riding out from the group. "Canyou speak English?""Ay, that can I," cried Dick joyfully, riding up andshaking the stranger heartily by the hand; "an' rightglad am I to fall in wi' a white-skin an' a civil tonguein his head.""Good sooth, sir," replied the stranger, with a quietsmile on his kind, weather-beaten face, "I can returnyou the compliment; for when I saw you come thunderingdown the corrie with that wonderful horse andno less wonderful dog of yours, I thought you were thewild man o' the mountain himself, and had an ambushready to back you. But, young man, do you mean tosay that you live here in the mountain all alone afterthis fashion?""No, that I don't. I've comed here in my travels,but truly this bean't my home. But, sir (for I seeyou are what the fur-traders call a bourgeois), howcomes it that such a band as this rides i' the mountains?
D'ye mean to say that they live here?" Dick lookedround in surprise, as he spoke, upon the crowd ofmounted men and women, with children and pack-horses,that now surrounded him.
"'Tis a fair question, lad. I am a principal amongthe fur-traders whose chief trading-post lies near thePacific Ocean, on the west side of these mountains; andI have come with these trappers and their families, as you see, tohunt thebeaver and other animals for aseason in the mountains. We've never been here before; but that's amatterof little moment, for it's notthe first time I've been on what may be called a discovery-tradingexpedition. We are somewhat entangled,however, just now among these wild passes, and if youcan guide us out of our difficulties to the east side ofthe mountains, I'll thank you heartily and pay you well.
But first tell me who and what you are, if it's a fairquestion.""My name is Dick Varley, and my home's in theMustang Valley, near the Missouri River. As to whatI am--I'm nothin' yet, but I hope to desarve the nameo' a hunter some day. I can guide you to the east sideo' the mountains, for I've comed from there; but morethan that I can't do, for I'm a stranger to the countryhere, like yourself. But you're on the east side o' themountains already, if I mistake not; only these mountainsare so rugged and jumbled up, that it's not easytellin' where ye are. And what," continued Dick,"may be the name o' the bourgeois who speaks tome?""My name is Cameron--Walter Cameron--a well-knownname among the Scottish hills, although itsounds a little strange here. And now, young man,will you join my party as guide, and afterwards remainas trapper? It will pay you better, I think, thanroving about alone."Dick shook his head and looked grave. "I'll guideyou," said he, "as far as my knowledge 'll help me;but after that I must return to look for two comradeswhom I have lost. They have been driven into themountains by a band of Injuns. God grant they maynot have bin scalped!"The trader's face looked troubled, and he spoke withone of his Indians for a few minutes in earnest, hurriedtones.
"What were they like, young man?"Dick described them.
"The same," continued the trader. "They've beenseen, lad, not more than two days ago, by this Indianhere, when he was out hunting alone some miles awayfrom our camp. He came suddenly on a band ofIndians who had two prisoners with them, such as youdescribe. They were stout, said you?""Yes, both of them," cried Dick, listening with intenseeagerness.
"Ay. They were tied to their horses, an' from whatI know of these fellows I'm sure they're doomed. ButI'll help you, my friend, as well as I can. They can'tbe far from this. I treated my Indian's story aboutthem as a mere fabrication, for he's the most notoriousliar in my company; but he seems to have spoken truthfor once.""Thanks, thanks, good sir," cried Dick. "Had wenot best turn back and follow them at once?""Nay, friend, not quite so fast," replied Cameron,pointing to his people. "These must be provided forfirst, but I shall be ready before the sun goes down.
And now, as I presume you don't bivouac in the snow,will you kindly conduct us to your encampment, if it benot far hence?"Although burning with impatience to fly to the rescueof his friends, Dick felt constrained to comply with soreasonable a request, so he led the way to his camping-place,where the band of fur-traders immediately beganto pitch their tents, cut down wood, kindle fires, filltheir kettles with water, cook their food, and, in fact,make themselves comfortable. The wild spot which, anhour before, had been so still, and grand, and gloomy,was now, as if by magic, transformed into a bustlingvillage, with bright fires blazing among the rocks andbushes, and merry voices of men, women, and childrenringing in the air. It seemed almost incredible, andno wonder Dick, in his bewilderment, had difficulty inbelieving it was not all a dream.
In days long gone by the fur-trade in that countrywas carried on in a very different way from the mannerin which it is now conducted. These wild regions, indeed,are still as lonesome and untenanted (save bywild beasts and wandering tribes of Indians) as theywere then; but the Indians of the present day havebecome accustomed to the "Pale-face" trader, whoselittle wooden forts or trading-posts are dotted here andthere, at wide intervals, all over the land. But in thedays of which we write it was not so. The fur-tradersat that time went forth in armed bands into the heartof the Indians' country, and he who went forth did so"with his life in his hand." As in the case of thesoldier who went out to battle, there was great probabilitythat he might never return.
The band of which Walter Cameron was the chiefhad, many months before, started from one of the distantposts of Oregon on a hunting expedition into thethen totally unknown lands of the Snake Indians. Itconsisted of about sixty men, thirty women, and asmany children of various ages--about a hundred andtwenty souls in all. Many of the boys were capable ofusing the gun and setting a beaver-trap. The men werea most motley set. There were Canadians, half-breeds,Iroquois, and Scotchmen. Most of the women hadIndian blood in their veins, and a few were pureIndians.
The equipment of this strange band consisted of upwardsof two hundred beaver-traps--which are similar toour rat-traps, with this difference, that they have twosprings and no teeth--seventy guns, a few articles fortrade with the Indians, and a large supply of powderand ball; the whole--men, women, children, goods, andchattels--being carried on the backs of nearly fourhundred horses. Many of these horses, at starting, werenot laden, being designed for the transport of furs thatwere to be taken in the course of the season.
For food this adventurous party depended entirely ontheir guns, and during the march hunters were keptconstantly out ahead. As a matter of course, theirliving was precarious. Sometimes their kettles wereoverflowing; at others they scarce refrained from eatingtheir horses. But during the months they had alreadyspent in the wilderness good living had been the rule,starvation the exception. They had already collected alarge quantity of beaver skins, which at that time wereamong the most valuable in the market, although theyare now scarcely saleable!
Having shot two wild horses, seven elks, six smalldeer, and four big-horned sheep the day before theymet Dick Varley, the camp kettles were full, and thepeople consequently happy.
"Now, Master Dick Varley," said Cameron, touchingthe young hunter on the shoulder as he stood readyequipped by one of the camp-fires, "I'm at your service.
The people won't need any more looking after to-night.
I'll divide my men--thirty shall go after this rascallyband of Peigans, for such I believe they are, and thirtyshall remain to guard the camp. Are you ready?""Ready! ay, this hour past.""Mount then, lad; the men have already been toldoff, and are mustering down yonder where the deer gaveyou such a licking."Dick needed no second bidding. He vaulted onCharlie's back, and along with their commander joinedthe men, who were thirty as fine, hardy, reckless lookingfellows as one could desire for a forlorn-hope. Theywere chatting and laughing while they examined theirguns and saddle-girths. Their horses were sorry lookinganimals compared with the magnificent creaturethat Dick bestrode, but they were hardy, nevertheless,and well fitted for their peculiar work.
"My! wot a blazer!" exclaimed a trapper as Dickrode up.
"Where you git him?" inquired a half-breed.
"I caught him," answered Dick.
"Baw!" cried the first speaker.
Dick took no notice of this last remark.
"No, did ye though?" he asked again.
"I did," answered Dick quietly. "I creased him inthe prairie; you can see the mark on his neck if youlook."The men began to feel that the young hunter wasperhaps a little beyond them at their own trade, and regardedhim with increased respect.
"Look sharp now, lads," said Cameron, impatiently,to several dilatory members of the band. "Night willbe on us ere long.""Who sold ye the bear-claw collar?" inquired anotherman of Dick.
"I didn't buy it. I killed the bear and made it.""Did ye, though, all be yer lone?""Ay; that wasn't much, was it?""You've begun well, yonker," said a tall, middle-agedhunter, whose general appearance was not unlike that ofJoe Blunt. "Jest keep clear o' the Injuns an' the grogbottle, an' ye've a glor'ous life before ye."At this point the conversation was interrupted by theorder being given to move on, which was obeyed insilence, and the cavalcade, descending the valley, enteredone of the gorges in the mountains.
For the first half-mile Cameron rode a little ahead ofhis men, then he turned to speak to one of them, andfor the first time observed Crusoe trotting close besidehis master's horse.
"Ah! Master Dick," he exclaimed with a troubledexpression, "that won't do. It would never do to take a dog on anexpedition like this.""Why not?" asked Dick; "the pup's quiet and peaceable.""I doubt it not; but he will betray our presence tothe Indians, which might be inconvenient.""I have travelled more than a thousand miles throughprairie and forest, among game an' among Injuns, an'
the pup never betrayed me yet," said Dick, with suppressedvehemence. "He has saved my life more thanonce though.""You seem to have perfect confidence in your dog,but as this is a serious matter you must not expect meto share in it without proof of his trustworthiness.""The pup may be useful to us; how would you haveit proved?" inquired Dick.
"Any way you like.""You forgot your belt at starting, I think I heerdye say.""Yes, I did," replied the trader, smiling.
Dick immediately took hold of Cameron's coat, andbade Crusoe smell it, which the dog did very carefully.
Then he showed him his own belt and said, "Go backto the camp and fetch it, pup."Crusoe was off in a moment, and in less than twentyminutes returned with Cameron's belt in his mouth.
"Well, I'll trust him," said Cameron, patting Crusoe'shead. "Forward, lads!" and away they went at a brisktrot along the bottom of a beautiful valley on each sideof which the mountains towered in dark masses. Soonthe moon rose and afforded light sufficient to enablethem to travel all night in the track of the Indianhunter who said he had seen the Peigans, and who wasconstituted guide to the party. Hour after hour thehorsemen pressed on without check, now galloping overa level plain, now bounding by the banks of a rivulet,or bending their heads to escape the boughs of overhangingtrees, and anon toiling slowly up among therocks of some narrow defile. At last the moon set, andthe order was given to halt in a little plain where therewere wood and water.
The horses were picketed, a fire kindled, a mouthfulof dried meat hastily eaten, the watch was set, and theneach man scraped away the snow, spread some brancheson the ground, and wrapping himself in his blanket,went to sleep with his feet presented towards the fire.
Two hours were allowed for rest; then they wereawakened, and in a few minutes were off again by thegray light of dawn. In this way they travelled twonights and a day. At the end of that time they camesuddenly on a small party of nine Indians, who wereseated on the ground with their snow-shoes and blanketsby their sides. They had evidently been taken by surprise,but they made no attempt to escape, knowingthat it was useless. Each sat still with his bow andarrows between his legs on the ground ready for instantuse.
As soon as Cameron spoke, however, in their ownlanguage they felt relieved, and began to talk.
"Where do you come from, and what are you doinghere?" asked the trader.
"We have come to trade with the white men," oneof them replied, "and to hunt. We have come fromthe Missouri. Our country is far away.""Do Peigans hunt with war-arrows?" asked Cameron,pointing to their weapons.
This question seemed to perplex them, for they sawthat their interrogator knew the difference between awar and a hunting arrow--the former being barbed inorder to render its extraction from the wound difficult,while the head of the latter is round, and can be drawnout of game that has been killed, and used again.
"And do Peigans," continued Cameron, "come from afar country to trade with the white men with nothing?"Again the Indians were silent, for they had not anarticle to trade about them.
Cameron now felt convinced that this party ofPeigans, into whose hands Joe Blunt and Henri hadfallen, were nothing else than a war party, and thatthe men now before him were a scouting party sent outfrom them, probably to spy out his own camp, on thetrail of which they had fallen, so he said to them:--"The Peigans are not wise men; they tell lies to thetraders. I will tell you that you are a war party, andthat you are only a few warriors sent out to spy thetraders' camp. You have also two Pale-face prisonersin your camp. You cannot deceive me. It is uselessto try. Now, conduct me to your camp. My objectis not war; it is peace. I will speak with your chiefsabout trading with the white men, and we will smokethe pipe of peace. Are my words good?"Despite their proverbial control of muscle, these Indianscould not conceal their astonishment at hearingso much of their affairs thus laid bare; so they saidthat the Pale-face chief was wise, that he must be agreat medicine man, and that what he said was all trueexcept about the white men. They had never seen anyPale-faces, and knew nothing whatever about those hespoke of.
This was a terrible piece of news to poor Dick, andat first his heart fairly sank within him, but by degreeshe came to be more hopeful. He concluded that ifthese men told lies in regard to one thing, they woulddo it in regard to another, and perhaps they mighthave some strong reason for denying any knowledge ofJoe and Henri.
The Indians now packed up the buffalo robes onwhich they had slept, and the mouthful of provisionsthey had taken with them.
"I don't believe a word of what they say about yourfriends," said Cameron to Dick in a low tone while theIndians were thus engaged. "Depend upon it theyhope to hide them till they can send to the settlementsand get a ransom, or till they get an opportunity oftorturing them to death before their women and childrenwhen they get back to their own village. Butwe'll balk them, my friend, do not fear."The Indians were soon ready to start, for they werecumbered with marvellously little camp equipage. Inless than half-an-hour after their discovery they wererunning like deer ahead of the cavalcade in the directionof the Peigan camp.
CHAPTER XIX.
 Adventures with the Peigans--Crusoe does good service as adiscoverer--The savages outwitted--The rescue.
A run of twenty miles brought the travellers to arugged defile in the mountains, from which theyhad a view of a beautiful valley of considerable extent.
During the last two days a steady thaw had been rapidlymelting away the snow, so that it appeared only hereand there in the landscape in dazzling patches. At thedistance of about half-a-mile from where they halted tobreathe the horses before commencing the descent intothis vale, several thin wreaths of smoke were seenrising above the trees.
"Is that your camp?" inquired Cameron, riding upto the Indian runners, who stood in a group in front,looking as fresh after their twenty miles' run as thoughthey had only had a short walk.
To this they answered in the affirmative, adding thatthere were about two hundred Peigans there.
It might have been thought that thirty men wouldhave hesitated to venture to attack so large a numberas two hundred; but it had always been found in theexperience of Indian life that a few resolute white menwell armed were more than a match for ten times theirnumber of Indians. And this arose not so much fromthe superior strength or agility of the Whites over theirred foes, as from that bull-dog courage and utter recklessnessof their lives in combat--qualities which thecrafty savage can neither imitate nor understand. Theinformation was received with perfect indifference bymost of the trappers, and with contemptuous laughterby some; for a large number of Cameron's men werewild, evil-disposed fellows, who would have as gladlytaken the life of an Indian as that of a buffalo.
Just as the word was given to resume the march,Dick Varley rode up to Cameron and said in a somewhatanxious tone,--"D'ye obsarve, sir, that one o' the Redskins has goneoff ahead o' his comrades?""I see that, Master Dick; and it was a mistake ofmine not to have stopped him, but he was gone too farbefore I observed it, and I thought it better to appearunconcerned. We must push on, though, and give himas short time as possible to talk with his comrades inthe camp."The trappers pressed forward accordingly at a gallop,and were soon in front of the clump of trees amongstwhich the Peigans were encamped. Their approachhad evidently spread great alarm among them, for therewas a good deal of bustle and running to and fro; butby the time the trappers had dismounted and advancedin a body on foot, the savages had resumed their usualquiet dignity of appearance, and were seated calmlyround their fires with their bows and arrows besidethem. There were no tents, no women or children, andthe general aspect of the men showed Cameron conclusivelythat his surmise about their being a war partywas correct.
A council was immediately called. The trappers rangedthemselves on one side of the council fire and the Indianson the other. Meanwhile, our friend Crusoe had beendisplaying considerable irritability against the Indians,and he would certainly have attacked the whole twohundred single-handed if he had not been ordered byhis master to lie still; but never in his life before hadCrusoe obeyed with such a bad grace. He bristled andwhined in a low tremulous tone, and looked imploringlyat Dick as if for permission to fly at them.
"The Pale-face traders are glad to meet with thePeigans," began Cameron, who determined to make noallusion to his knowledge that they were a war party,"for they wish to be friends with all the children of thewoods and prairies. They wish to trade with them--toexchange blankets, and guns, and beads, and other goodswhich the Peigans require, for furs of animals which thePale-faces require.""Ho! ho!" exclaimed the Indians, which expressionmight be translated, "Hear! hear!""But," continued Cameron, "we wish to have no war.
We wish to see the hatchet buried, and to see all thered men and the white men smoking the pipe of peace,and hunting like brothers."The "Ho--ho--ing" at this was very emphatic.
"Now," resumed the trader, "the Peigans have got two prisoners--twoPale-faces--in their camp, and as we cannot be on good terms while ourbrothers are detained, we have come to ask for them, and to presentsomegifts to the Peigans."To this there was no "Ho" at all, but a prolongedsilence, which was at length interrupted by a tall chiefstepping forward to address the trappers.
"What the Pale-face chief has said is good," beganthe Indian. "His words are wise, and his heart is notdouble. The Red-men are willing to smoke the pipe ofpeace, and to hunt with all men as brothers, but theycannot do it while many of their scalps are hanging inthe lodges of their enemies and fringing the robes of thewarriors. The Peigans must have vengeance; then theywill make peace."After a short pause he continued,--"The chief is wrong when he says there are Pale-facesin the Peigan camp. The Peigans are notat war with the Pale-faces; neither have they seenany on their march. The camp is open. Let thePale-faces look round and see that what we say istrue."The chief waved his hand towards his warriors as heconcluded, as if to say, "Search amongst them. Thereare no Pale-faces there."Cameron now spoke to Dick in a low tone. "Theyspeak confidently," he said, "and I fear greatly thatyour poor comrades have either been killed or conveyedaway from the camp and hidden among the mountains,in which case, even though they should not be far off,it would be next to impossible to find them, especiallywhen such a band of rascals is near, compelling us tokeep together. But I'll try what a little tempting themwith goods will do. At any rate, we shan't give inwithout a scuffle."It now, for the first time, flashed across Dick Varleythat there was something more than he imagined inCrusoe's restless anxiety, which had not in the leastabated, and the idea of making use of him now occurredto his mind.
"I've a notion that I'll settle this matter in a shortertime than you think," he said hurriedly, "if you'll agreeto try what threatening will do."The trader looked grave and undecided. "I neverresort to that except as a last hope," he answered; "butI've a good deal of confidence in your prudence. Whatwould you advise?"Dick and the trader whispered a few minutes together,while some of the men, in order to show the Indians howperfectly unconcerned they were, and how ready foranything, took out their pipes and began to smoke.
Both parties were seated on the ground, and during thisinterval the Indians also held eager discussion.
At length Cameron stood up, and said to his men ina quiet tone, "Be ready, lads, for instant action. WhenI give the word 'Up,' spring to your feet and cock yourguns; but don't fire a shot till you get the word." Hethen stepped forward and said,--"The Peigan warriors are double-tongued; they knowthat they have hid the Pale-face prisoners. We do notwish to quarrel, but if they are not delivered up at oncethe Pale-faces and the Peigans will not be friends."Upon this the Indian chief again stood forward andsaid, "The Peigans are not double-tongued. They havenot seen Pale-faces till to-day. They can say nomore."Without moving hand or foot, Cameron then said ina firm tone, "The first Peigan that moves shall die!
Up, lads, and ready!"In the twinkling of an eye the trappers sprang totheir feet, and cocking their rifles stood perfectly motionless,scowling at the savages, who were completely takenby surprise at the unusual suddenness and informalityof such a declaration of war. Not a man moved, for,unlike white men, they seldom risk their lives in openfight; and as they looked at the formidable row ofmuzzles that waited but a word to send instant deathinto their midst, they felt that discretion was at thattime the better part of valour.
"Now," said Cameron, while Dick Varley and Crusoestepped up beside him, "my young warrior will searchfor the Pale-face prisoners. If they are found, we willtake them and go away. If they are not found, wewill ask the Peigans to forgive us, and will give themgifts. But in the meantime, if a Peigan moves fromthe spot where he sits, or lifts a bow, my young menshall fire, and the Peigans know that the rifle of thePale-face always kills."Without waiting for an answer, Dick immediatelysaid, "Seek 'em out, pup," and Crusoe bounded away.
For a few minutes he sprang hither and thitherthrough the camp, quite regardless of the Indians, andsnuffed the air several times, whining in an excitedtone, as if to relieve his feelings. Then he put his noseto the ground and ran straight forward into the woods.
Dick immediately bounded after him like a deer, whilethe trappers kept silent guard over the savages.
For some time Crusoe ran straight forward. Then hecame to a spot where there was a good deal of driftedsnow on the ground. Here he seemed to lose the trailfor a little, and ran about in all directions, whining in amost piteous tone.
"Seek 'em out, pup," repeated Dick encouragingly,while his own breast heaved with excitement and expectation.
In a few seconds the dog resumed its onward course,and led the way into a wild, dark spot, which was soovershadowed by trees and precipitous cliffs that thelight of the sun scarce found entrance. There weremany huge masses of rock scattered over the ground,which had fallen from the cliffs. Behind one of theselay a mound of dried leaves, towards which Crusoedarted and commenced scraping violently.
Trembling with dread that he should find this to bethe grave of his murdered companions, Dick rushedforward and hastily cleared away the leaves. The firsthandful thrown off revealed part of the figure of a man.
Dick's heart beat audibly as he cleared the leaves fromthe face, and he uttered a suppressed cry on beholdingthe well-known features of Joe Blunt. But they werenot those of a dead man. Joe's eyes met his with ascowl of anger, which instantly gave place to one ofintense surprise.
"Joe Blunt!" exclaimed Dick in a voice of intenseamazement, while Crusoe snuffed round the heap ofleaves and whined with excitement. But Joe did notmove, neither did he speak a word in reply--for thevery good reason that his mouth was tightly boundwith a band of leather, his hands and feet were tied,and his whole body was secured in a rigid, immovableposition by being bound to a pole of about his ownlength.
In a moment Dick's knife was out, bands and cordswere severed, and Joe Blunt was free.
"Thank God!" exclaimed Joe with a deep, earnest sigh,the instant his lips were loosened, "and thanks to you,lad!" he added, endeavouring to rise; but his limbs hadbecome so benumbed in consequence of the cords bywhich they had been compressed that for some time hecould not move.
"I'll rub ye, Joe; I'll soon rub ye into a right state,"said Dick, going down on his knees.
"No, no, lad, look sharp and dig up Henri. He'sjust beside me here."Dick immediately rose, and pushing aside the heapof leaves, found Henri securely bound in the samefashion. But he could scarce refrain from laughing atthe expression of that worthy's face. Hearing the voicesof Joe and Dick Varley in conversation, though unableto see their persons, he was filled with such unboundedamazement that his eyes, when uncovered, were foundto be at their largest possible stretch, and as for theeyebrows they were gone, utterly lost among the rootsof his voluminous hair.
"Henri, friend, I knew I should find ye," said Dick,cutting the thongs that bound him. "Get up if yecan; we haven't much time to lose, an' mayhap we'llhave to fight afore we're done wi' the Redskins. Canye rise?"Henri could do nothing but lie on his back and gasp,"Eh! possible! mon frere! Oh, non, non, not possible.
Oui! my broder Deek!"Here he attempted to rise, but being unable fell backagain, and the whole thing came so suddenly, and madeso deep an impression on his impulsive mind, that heincontinently burst into tears; then he burst into a longlaugh. Suddenly he paused, and scrambling up to asitting posture, looked earnestly into Dick's face throughhis tearful eyes.
"Oh, non, non!" he exclaimed, stretching himselfout at full length again, and closing his eyes; "it aretoo goot to be true. I am dream. I vill wait till I amwake."Dick roused him out of this, resolute sleep, however,somewhat roughly. Meanwhile Joe had rubbed andkicked himself into a state of animation, exclaiming thathe felt as if he wos walkin' on a thousand needles andpins, and in a few minutes they were ready to accompanytheir overjoyed deliverer back to the Peigan camp.
Crusoe testified his delight in various elephantine gambolsround the persons of his old friends, who were notslow to acknowledge his services.
"They haven't treated us overly well," remarked JoeBlunt, as they strode through the underwood.
"Non, de rascale, vraiment, de am villains. Oui!
How de have talk, too, 'bout--oh-o-oo-ooo-wah!--roastin'
us alive, an' puttin' our scalp in de vigvam for de poo-pooseto play wid!""Well, niver mind, Henri, we'll be quits wi' themnow," said Joe, as they came in sight of the two bands,who remained in precisely the same position in whichthey had been left, except that one or two of the morereckless of the trappers had lit their pipes and taken tosmoking, without, however, laying down their rifles ortaking their eyes off the savages.
A loud cheer greeted the arrival of the prisoners, andlooks of considerable discomfort began to be evinced bythe Indians.
"Glad to see you, friends," said Cameron, as theycame up.
"Ve is 'appy ov de same," replied Henri, swaggeringup in the joviality of his heart, and seizing the trader'shand in his own enormous fist. "Shall ve go to vorkan' slay dem all at vonce, or von at a time?""We'll consider that afterwards, my lad. Meantimego you to the rear and get a weapon of some sort.""Oui. Ah! c'est charmant," he cried, going with animmense flounder into the midst of the amused trappers,and slapping those next to him on the back. "Give meveapon, do, mes amis--gun, pistol, anyting--cannon, ifyou have von."Meanwhile Cameron and Joe spoke together for a fewmoments.
"You had goods with you, and horses, I believe, whenyou were captured," said the former.
"Ay, that we had. Yonder stand the horses, underthe pine-tree, along wi' the rest o' the Redskin troop; an'
a hard time they've had o't, as their bones may tell withoutspeakin'. As for the goods," he continued, glancinground the camp, "I don't know where--ah! yes, therethey be in the old pack. I see all safe."Cameron now addressed the Indians.
"The Peigans," he said, "have not done well. Theirhearts have not been true to the Pale-faces. Even nowI could take your scalps where you sit, but white mendo not like war, they do not like revenge. The Peigansmay go free."Considering the fewness of their numbers, this wasbold language to use towards the Indians; but the boldestis generally the best policy on such occasions. Moreover,Cameron felt that, being armed with rifles, whilethe Indians had only bows and arrows, the trappers hada great advantage over them.
The Indian who had spoken before now rose and saidhe was sorry there should be any cause of differencebetween them, and added he was sorry for a great manymore things besides, but he did not say he was sorry forhaving told a lie.
"But, before you go, you must deliver up the horsesand goods belonging to these men," said Cameron, pointingto Joe and Henri.
This was agreed to. The horses were led out, the twolittle packs containing Joe's goods were strapped uponthem, and then the trappers turned to depart. The Indiansdid not move until they had mounted; then theyrose and advanced in a body to the edge of the wood, tosee the Pale-faces go away. Meanwhile Joe spoke a fewwords to Cameron, and the men were ordered to halt,while the former dismounted and led his horse towardsthe band of savages.
"Peigans," he said, "you know the object for whichI came into this country was to make peace betweenyou and the Pale-faces. I have often told you so whenyou would not listen, and when you told me that I hada double heart and told lies. You were wrong whenyou said this; but I do not wonder, for you live amongnations who do not fear God, and who think it right tolie. I now repeat to you what I said before. It wouldbe good for the Red-men if they would make peace withthe Pale-faces, and if they would make peace with eachother. I will now convince you that I am in earnest,and have all along been speaking the truth."Hereupon Joe Blunt opened his bundle of goods, andpresented fully one-half of the gaudy and brilliant contentsto the astonished Indians, who seemed quite takenaback by such generous treatment. The result of thiswas that the two parties separated with mutual expressionsof esteem and good-will. The Indians then returnedto the forest, and the white men galloped back to theircamp among the hills.
CHAPTER XX.
 New plans--Our travellers join the fur-traders, and see manystrange things--A curious fight--A narrow escape, anda prisoner taken.
Not long after the events related in the last chapter,our four friends--Dick, and Joe, and Henri,and Crusoe--agreed to become for a time members ofWalter Cameron's band of trappers. Joe joined becauseone of the objects which the traders had in view wassimilar to his own mission--namely, the promoting ofpeace among the various Indian tribes of the mountainsand plains to the west. Joe, therefore, thought it agood opportunity of travelling with a band of men whocould secure him a favourable hearing from the Indiantribes they might chance to meet with in the course oftheir wanderings. Besides, as the traders carried abouta large supply of goods with them, he could easily replenishhis own nearly exhausted pack by hunting wildanimals and exchanging their skins for such articles ashe might require.
Dick joined because it afforded him an opportunity ofseeing the wild, majestic scenery of the Rocky Mountains,and shooting the big-horned sheep which aboundedthere, and the grizzly "bars," as Joe named them, or"Caleb," as they were more frequently styled by Henriand the other men.
Henri joined because it was agreeable to the inclinationof his own rollicking, blundering, floundering, crashingdisposition, and because he would have joined anythingthat had been joined by the other two.
Crusoe's reason for joining was single, simple, easy tobe expressed, easy to be understood, and commendable.
He joined--because Dick did.
The very day after the party left the encampmentwhere Dick had shot the grizzly bear and the deer, hehad the satisfaction of bringing down a splendid specimenof the big-horned sheep. It came suddenly outfrom a gorge of the mountain, and stood upon the giddyedge of a tremendous precipice, at a distance of abouttwo hundred and fifty yards.
"You could not hit that," said a trapper to Henri,who was rather fond of jeering him about his shortsightedness.
"Non!" cried Henri, who didn't see the animal in theleast; "say you dat? ve shall see;" and he let fly with apromptitude that amazed his comrades, and with a resultthat drew from them peals of laughter.
"Why, you have missed the mountain!""Oh, non! dat am eempossoble."It was true, nevertheless, for his ball had been arrestedin its flight by the stem of a tree not twenty yards beforehim.
While the shot was yet ringing, and before the laughabove referred to had pealed forth, Dick Varley fired,and the animal, springing wildly into the air, fell downthe precipice, and was almost dashed to pieces at theirfeet.
This Rocky Mountain or big-horned sheep was a particularlylarge and fine one, but being a patriarch of theflock was not well suited for food. It was considerablylarger in size than the domestic sheep, and might bedescribed as somewhat resembling a deer in the bodyand a ram in the head. Its horns were the chief pointof interest to Dick; and, truly, they were astounding!
Their enormous size was out of all proportion to theanimal's body, and they curved backwards and downwards,and then curled up again in a sharp point. Thesecreatures frequent the inaccessible heights of the RockyMountains, and are difficult to approach. They have agreat fondness for salt, and pay regular visits to thenumerous caverns of these mountains, which are encrustedwith a saline substance.
Walter Cameron now changed his intention of proceedingto the eastward, as he found the country not sofull of beaver at that particular spot as he had anticipated.
He therefore turned towards the west, penetratedinto the interior of the mountains, and took aconsiderable sweep through the lovely valleys on theirwestern slopes.
The expedition which this enterprising fur-trader wasconducting was one of the first that ever penetratedthese wild regions in search of furs. The ground overwhich they travelled was quite new to them, and havingno guide they just moved about at haphazard, encampingon the margin of every stream or river on whichsigns of the presence of beaver were discovered, andsetting their traps.
Beaver skins at this time were worth 25s. a-piece inthe markets of civilized lands, and in the Snake country,through which our friends were travelling, thousands ofthem were to be had from the Indians for trinkets andbaubles that were scarce worth a farthing. A beaverskin could be procured from the Indians for a brassfinger-ring or a penny looking-glass. Horses were alsoso numerous that one could be procured for an axe or aknife.
Let not the reader, however, hastily conclude that thetraders cheated the Indians in this traffic, though theprofits were so enormous. The ring or the axe was indeeda trifle to the trader, but the beaver skin and thehorse were equally trifles to the savage, who could procureas many of them as he chose with very littletrouble, while the ring and the axe were in his estimationof priceless value. Besides, be it remembered, tocarry that ring and that axe to the far-distant haunts ofthe Red-man cost the trader weeks and months of constanttoil, trouble, anxiety, and, alas! too frequently costhim his life! The state of trade is considerably modifiedin these regions at the present day. It is not morejustly conducted, for, in respect of the value of goodsgiven for furs, it was justly conducted then, but timeand circumstances have tended more to equalize the relativevalues of articles of trade.
The snow which had prematurely fallen had passedaway, and the trappers now found themselves wanderingabout in a country so beautiful and a season so delightful,that it would have seemed to them a perfect paradise,but for the savage tribes who hovered about them,and kept them ever on the qui vive.
They soon passed from the immediate embrace of stupendousheights and dark gorges to a land of slopingridges, which divided the country into a hundred luxuriantvales, composed part of woodland and part of prairie.
Through these, numerous rivers and streams flowed deviously,beautifying the landscape and enriching theland. There were also many lakes of all sizes, andthese swarmed with fish, while in some of them werefound the much-sought-after and highly-esteemed beaver.
Salt springs and hot springs of various temperaturesabounded here, and many of the latter were so hot thatmeat could be boiled in them. Salt existed in all directionsin abundance and of good quality. A sulphurousspring was also discovered, bubbling out from the baseof a perpendicular rock three hundred feet high, thewaters of which were dark-blue and tasted like gunpowder.
In short, the land presented every variety offeature calculated to charm the imagination and delightthe eye.
It was a mysterious land, too; for broad rivers burst inmany places from the earth, flowed on for a short space,and then disappeared as if by magic into the earth fromwhich they rose. Natural bridges spanned the torrentsin many places, and some of these were so correctlyformed that it was difficult to believe they had not beenbuilt by the hand of man. They often appeared opportunelyto our trappers, and saved them the trouble anddanger of fording rivers. Frequently the whole bandwould stop in silent wonder and awe as they listened tothe rushing of waters under their feet, as if anotherworld of streams, and rapids, and cataracts were flowingbelow the crust of earth on which they stood. Someconsiderable streams were likewise observed to gushfrom the faces of precipices, some twenty or thirty feetfrom their summits, while on the top no water was tobe seen.
Wild berries of all kinds were found in abundance,and wild vegetables, besides many nutritious roots.
Among other fish, splendid salmon were found in thelakes and rivers, and animal life swarmed on hill andin dale. Woods and valleys, plains and ravines, teemedwith it. On every plain the red-deer grazed in herdsby the banks of lake and stream. Wherever there wereclusters of poplar and elder trees and saplings, the beaverwas seen nibbling industriously with his sharp teeth,and committing as much havoc in the forest as if hehad been armed with the woodman's axe; others sportedin the eddies. Racoons sat in the tree-tops; the marten,the black fox, and the wolf prowled in the woods inquest of prey; mountain sheep and goats browsed onthe rocky ridges; and badgers peeped from their holes.
Here, too, the wild horse sprang snorting and dishevelledfrom his mountain retreats--with flourishingmane and tail, spanking step, and questioninggaze--and thundered away over the plains and valleys, whilethe rocks echoed back his shrill neigh. The huge,heavy, ungainly elk, or moose-deer, trotted away fromthe travellers with speed equal to that of the mustang:
elks seldom gallop; their best speed is attained at thetrot. Bears, too, black, and brown, and grizzly, roamedabout everywhere.
So numerous were all these creatures that on oneoccasion the hunters of the party brought in six wildhorses, three bears, four elks, and thirty red-deer; havingshot them all a short distance ahead of the main body,and almost without diverging from the line of march.
And this was a matter of everyday occurrence--as ithad need to be, considering the number of mouths thathad to be filled.
The feathered tribes were not less numerous. Chiefamong these were eagles and vultures of uncommon size,the wild goose, wild duck, and the majestic swan.
In the midst of such profusion the trappers spent ahappy time of it, when not molested by the savages, butthey frequently lost a horse or two in consequence ofthe expertness of these thievish fellows. They oftenwandered, however, for days at a time without seeingan Indian, and at such times they enjoyed to the fullthe luxuries with which a bountiful God had blessedthese romantic regions.
Dick Varley was almost wild with delight. It washis first excursion into the remote wilderness; he wasyoung, healthy, strong, and romantic; and it is a questionwhether his or his dog's heart, or that of the noblewild horse he bestrode, bounded most with joy at theglorious sights and sounds and influences by which theywere surrounded. It would have been perfection, had itnot been for the frequent annoyance and alarms causedby the Indians.
Alas! alas! that we who write and read about thosewondrous scenes should have to condemn our own speciesas the most degraded of all the works of the Creatorthere! Yet so it is. Man, exercising his reason andconscience in the path of love and duty which his Creatorpoints out, is God's noblest work; but man, left to thefreedom of his own fallen will, sinks morally lower thanthe beasts that perish. Well may every Christian wishand pray that the name and the gospel of the blessedJesus may be sent speedily to the dark places of theearth; for you may read of, and talk about, but youcannot conceive the fiendish wickedness and cruelty whichcauses tearless eyes to glare, and maddened hearts toburst, in the lands of the heathen.
While we are on this subject, let us add (and our youngreaders will come to know it if they are spared to seemany years) that civilization alone will never improvethe heart. Let history speak, and it will tell you thatdeeds of darkest hue have been perpetrated in so-calledcivilized though pagan lands. Civilization is like thepolish that beautifies inferior furniture, which water willwash off if it be but hot enough. Christianity resemblesdye, which permeates every fibre of the fabric, and whichnothing can eradicate.
The success of the trappers in procuring beaver herewas great. In all sorts of creeks and rivers they werefound. One day they came to one of the curious riversbefore mentioned, which burst suddenly out of a plain,flowed on for several miles, and then disappeared into theearth as suddenly as it had risen. Even in this strangeplace beaver were seen, so the traps were set, and ahundred and fifty were caught at the first lift.
The manner in which the party proceeded was asfollows:--They marched in a mass in groups or in a longline, according to the nature of the ground over whichthey travelled. The hunters of the party went forwarda mile or two in advance, and scattered through thewoods. After them came the advance-guard, being thebravest and most stalwart of the men mounted on theirbest steeds, and with rifle in hand; immediately behindfollowed the women and children, also mounted, andthe pack-horses with the goods and camp equipage.
Another band of trappers formed the rear-guard to thisimposing cavalcade. There was no strict regimentalorder kept, but the people soon came to adopt thearrangements that were most convenient for all parties,and at length fell naturally into their places in the lineof march.
Joe Blunt usually was the foremost and always themost successful of the hunters. He was therefore seldomseen on the march except at the hour of starting, and atnight when he came back leading his horse, which alwaysgroaned under its heavy load of meat. Henri, being ahearty, jovial soul and fond of society, usually kept withthe main body. As for Dick, he was everywhere atonce, at least as much so as it is possible for humannature to be! His horse never wearied; it seemed todelight in going at full speed; no other horse in thetroop could come near Charlie, and Dick indulged himby appearing now at the front, now at the rear, anon inthe centre, and frequently nowhere!--having gone offwith Crusoe like a flash of lightning after a buffalo or adeer. Dick soon proved himself to be the best hunterof the party, and it was not long before he fulfilled hispromise to Crusoe and decorated his neck with a collarof grizzly bear claws.
Well, when the trappers came to a river where therewere signs of beaver they called a halt, and proceededto select a safe and convenient spot, near wood andwater, for the camp. Here the property of the bandwas securely piled in such a manner as to form a breastworkor slight fortification, and here Walter Cameronestablished headquarters. This was always the postof danger, being exposed to sudden attack by prowlingsavages, who often dogged the footsteps of the party intheir journeyings to see what they could steal. ButCameron was an old hand, and they found it difficult toescape his vigilant eye.
From this point all the trappers were sent forth insmall parties every morning in various directions, someon foot and some on horseback, according to the distancesthey had to go; but they never went fartherthan twenty miles, as they had to return to camp everyevening.
Each trapper had ten steel traps allowed him. Thesehe set every night, and visited every morning, sometimesoftener when practicable, selecting a spot in the streamwhere many trees had been cut down by beavers for thepurpose of damming up the water. In some places asmany as fifty tree stumps were seen in one spot, withinthe compass of half an acre, all cut through at abouteighteen inches from the root. We may remark, inpassing, that the beaver is very much like a giganticwater-rat, with this marked difference, that its tail isvery broad and flat like a paddle. The said tail is agreatly-esteemed article of food, as, indeed, is the wholebody at certain seasons of the year. The beaver's forelegs are very small and short, and it uses its paws ashands to convey food to its mouth, sitting the while inan erect position on its hind legs and tail. Its fur isa dense coat of a grayish-coloured down, concealed bylong coarse hair, which lies smooth, and is of a brightchestnut colour. Its teeth and jaws are of enormouspower; with them it can cut through the branch of atree as thick as a walking-stick at one snap, and, as wehave said, it gnaws through thick trees themselves.
As soon as a tree falls, the beavers set to work industriouslyto lop off the branches, which, as well as thesmaller trunks, they cut into lengths, according to theirweight and thickness. These are then dragged bymain force to the water-side, launched, and floated totheir destination. Beavers build their houses, or"lodges," under the banks of rivers and lakes, and alwaysselect those of such depth of water that there isno danger of their being frozen to the bottom. Whensuch cannot be found, and they are compelled to buildin small rivulets of insufficient depth, these clever littlecreatures dam up the waters until they are deep enough.
The banks thrown up by them across rivulets for thispurpose are of great strength, and would do credit tohuman engineers. Their lodges are built of sticks,mud, and stones, which form a compact mass; thisfreezes solid in winter, and defies the assaults of thathousebreaker, the wolverine, an animal which is thebeaver's implacable foe. From this lodge, which iscapable often of holding four old and six or eight youngones, a communication is maintained with the waterbelow the ice, so that, should the wolverine succeed in breaking upthelodge, he finds the family "not athome," they having made good their retreat by theback-door. When man acts the part of housebreaker,however, he cunningly shuts the back-door first, bydriving stakes through the ice, and thus stopping thepassage. Then he enters, and, we almost regret to say,finds the family at home. We regret it, because thebeaver is a gentle, peaceable, affectionate, hairy littlecreature, towards which one feels an irresistible tenderness.
But to return from this long digression.
Our trappers, having selected their several localities,set their traps in the water, so that when the beaversroamed about at night they put their feet into them,and were caught and drowned; for although they canswim and dive admirably, they cannot live altogetherunder water.
Thus the different parties proceeded; and in themornings the camp was a busy scene indeed, for thenthe whole were engaged in skinning the animals. Theskins were always stretched, dried, folded up with thehair in the inside, and laid by; and the flesh was usedfor food.
But oftentimes the trappers had to go forth with thegun in one hand and their traps in the other, whilethey kept a sharp look-out on the bushes to guardagainst surprise. Despite their utmost efforts, a horsewas occasionally stolen before their very eyes, andsometimes even an unfortunate trapper was murdered,and all his traps carried off.
An event of this kind occurred soon after the partyhad gained the western slopes of the mountains. ThreeIroquois Indians, who belonged to the band of trappers,were sent to a stream about ten miles off. Havingreached their destination, they all entered the water toset their traps, foolishly neglecting the usual precautionof one remaining on the bank to protect the others.
They had scarcely commenced operations when threearrows were discharged into their backs, and a party ofSnake Indians rushed upon and slew them, carryingaway their traps and horses and scalps. This was notknown for several days, when, becoming anxious abouttheir prolonged absence, Cameron sent out a party,which found their mangled bodies affording a loathsomebanquet to the wolves and vultures.
After this sad event, the trappers were more carefulto go in larger parties, and keep watch.
As long as beaver were taken in abundance, thecamp remained stationary; but whenever the beaverbegan to grow scarce, the camp was raised, and theparty moved on to another valley.
One day Dick Varley came galloping into camp withthe news that there were several bears in a valley notfar distant, which he was anxious not to disturb until anumber of the trappers were collected together to goout and surround them.
On receiving the information, Walter Cameron shookhis head.
"We have other things to do, young man," said he,"than go a-hunting after bears. I'm just about makingup my mind to send off a party to search out the valleyon the other side of the Blue Mountains yonder, andbring back word if there are beaver there; for if not, Imean to strike away direct south. Now, if you've amind to go with them, you're welcome. I'll warrant you'llfind enough in the way of bear-hunting to satisfy you;perhaps a little Indian hunting to boot, for if the Banatteesget hold of your horses, you'll have a long huntbefore you find them again. Will you go?""Ay, right gladly," replied Dick. "When do westart?""This afternoon."Dick went off at once to his own part of the camp toreplenish his powder-horn and bullet-pouch, and wipeout his rifle.
That evening the party, under command of a Canadiannamed Pierre, set out for the Blue Hills. Theynumbered twenty men, and expected to be absent threedays, for they merely went to reconnoitre, not to trap.
Neither Joe nor Henri was of this party, both havingbeen out hunting when it was organized; but Crusoeand Charlie were, of course.
Pierre, although a brave and trusty man, was of asour, angry disposition, and not a favourite with Dick;but the latter resolved to enjoy himself, and disregardhis sulky comrade. Being so well mounted, he not unfrequentlyshot far ahead of his companions, despitetheir warnings that he ran great risk by so doing. Onone of these occasions he and Crusoe witnessed a verysingular fight, which is worthy of record.
Dick had felt a little wilder in spirit that morningthan usual, and on coming to a pretty open plain hegave the rein to Charlie, and with an "Adieu, mes camarade,"he was out of sight in a few minutes. He rodeon several miles in advance without checking speed, andthen came to a wood where rapid motion was inconvenient;so he pulled up, and, dismounting, tied Charlieto a tree, while he sauntered on a short way on foot.
On coming to the edge of a small plain he observedtwo large birds engaged in mortal conflict. Crusoe observedthem too, and would soon have put an end to thefight had Dick not checked him. Creeping as close tothe belligerents as possible, he found that one was awild turkey-cock, the other a white-headed eagle. Thesetwo stood with their heads down and all their feathersbristling for a moment; then they dashed at each other,and struck fiercely with their spurs, as our domesticcocks do, but neither fell, and the fight was continuedfor about five minutes without apparent advantage oneither side.
Dick now observed that, from the uncertainty of itsmotions, the turkey-cock was blind, a discovery whichcaused a throb of compunction to enter his breast forstanding and looking on, so he ran forward. The eaglesaw him instantly, and tried to fly away, but was unablefrom exhaustion.
"At him, Crusoe," cried Dick, whose sympathies alllay with the other bird.
Crusoe went forward at a bound, and was met by apeck between the eyes that would have turned mostdogs; but Crusoe only winked, and the next momentthe eagle's career was ended.
Dick found that the turkey-cock was quite blind, theeagle having thrust out both its eyes, so, in mercy, heput an end to its sufferings.
The fight had evidently been a long and severe one,for the grass all round the spot, for about twenty yards,was beaten to the ground, and covered with the bloodand feathers of the fierce combatants.
Meditating on the fight which he had just witnessed,Dick returned towards the spot where he had leftCharlie, when he suddenly missed Crusoe from his side.
"Hallo, Crusoe! here, pup! where are you?" hecried.
The only answer to this was a sharp whizzing sound,and an arrow, passing close to his ear, quivered in atree beyond. Almost at the same moment Crusoe'sangry roar was followed by a shriek from some one infear or agony. Cocking his rifle, the young huntersprang through the bushes towards his horse, and wasjust in time to save a Banattee Indian from beingstrangled by the dog. It had evidently scented outthis fellow, and pinned him just as he was in the act ofspringing on the back of Charlie, for the halter was cut,and the savage lay on the ground close beside him.
Dick called off the dog, and motioned to the Indianto rise, which he did so nimbly that it was quite evidenthe had sustained no injury beyond the lacerationof his neck by Crusoe's teeth, and the surprise.
He was a tall strong Indian for the tribe to whichhe belonged, so Dick proceeded to secure him at once.
Pointing to his rifle and to the Indian's breast, to showwhat he might expect if he attempted to escape, Dickordered Crusoe to keep him steady in that position.
The dog planted himself in front of the savage, whobegan to tremble for his scalp, and gazed up in his facewith a look which, to say the least of it, was the reverseof amiable, while Dick went towards his horse for thepurpose of procuring a piece of cord to tie him with.
The Indian naturally turned his head to see what wasgoing to be done, but a peculiar gurgle in Crusoe's throatmade him turn it round again very smartly, and he didnot venture thereafter to move a muscle.
In a few seconds Dick returned with a piece ofleather and tied his hands behind his back. While thiswas being done the Indian glanced several times at hisbow, which lay a few feet away, where it had fallenwhen the dog caught him; but Crusoe seemed to understandhim, for he favoured him with such an additionaldisplay of teeth, and such a low--apparently distant,almost, we might say, subterranean--rumble, that heresigned himself to his fate.
His hands secured, a long line was attached to hisneck with a running noose, so that if he ventured torun away the attempt would effect its own cure by producingstrangulation. The other end of this line wasgiven to Crusoe, who at the word of command marchedhim off, while Dick mounted Charlie and brought upthe rear.
Great was the laughter and merriment when thisapparition met the eyes of the trappers; but when theyheard that he had attempted to shoot Dick their ire wasraised, and a court-martial was held on the spot.
"Hang the reptile!" cried one.
"Burn him!" shouted another.
"No, no," said a third; "don't imitate them villains:
don't be cruel. Let's shoot him.""Shoot 'im," cried Pierre. "Oui, dat is de ting; ittoo goot pour lui, mais it shall be dooed.""Don't ye think, lads, it would be better to let thepoor wretch off?" said Dick Varley; "he'd p'r'aps givea good account o' us to his people."There was a universal shout of contempt at this mildproposal. Unfortunately, few of the men sent on thisexploring expedition were imbued with the peace-makingspirit of their chief, and most of them seemed glad tohave a chance of venting their hatred of the poor Indianson this unhappy wretch, who, although calm, lookedsharply from one speaker to another, to gather hope, ifpossible, from the tones of their voices.
Dick was resolved, at the risk of a quarrel with Pierre,to save the poor man's life, and had made up his mindto insist on having him conducted to the camp to betried by Cameron, when one of the men suggested thatthey should take the savage to the top of a hill aboutthree miles farther on, and there hang him up on a treeas a warning to all his tribe.
"Agreed, agreed!" cried the men; "come on."Dick, too, seemed to agree to this proposal, and hastilyordered Crusoe to run on ahead with the savage; anorder which the dog obeyed so vigorously that, beforethe men had done laughing at him, he was a couple ofhundred yards ahead of them.
"Take care that he don't get off!" cried Dick, springingon Charlie and stretching out at a gallop.
In a moment he was beside the Indian. Scraping togetherthe little of the Indian language he knew, he stoopeddown, and, cutting the thongs that bound him, said,--"Go! white men love the Indians."The man cast on his deliverer one glance of surprise,and the next moment bounded aside into the bushes andwas gone.
A loud shout from the party behind showed that thisact had been observed; and Crusoe stood with the endof the line in his mouth, and an expression on his facethat said, "You're absolutely incomprehensible, Dick!
It's all right, I know, but to my feeble capacity itseemswrong.""Fat for you do dat?" shouted Pierre in a rage, ashe came up with a menacing look.
Dick confronted him. "The prisoner was mine. Ihad a right to do with him as it liked me.""True, true," cried several of the men who had begunto repent of their resolution, and were glad the savagewas off. "The lad's right. Get along, Pierre.""You had no right, you vas wrong. Oui, et I havegoot vill to give you one knock on de nose."Dick looked Pierre in the face, as he said this, in amanner that cowed him.
"It is time," he said quietly, pointing to the sun, "togo on. Your bourgeois expects that time won't bewasted."Pierre muttered something in an angry tone, andwheeling round his horse, dashed forward at full gallop,followed by the rest of the men.
The trappers encamped that night on the edge of awide grassy plain, which offered such tempting food forthe horses that Pierre resolved to forego his usualcautious plan of picketing them close to the camp, andset them loose on the plain, merely hobbling them toprevent their straying far.
Dick remonstrated, but in vain. An insolent answerwas all he got for his pains. He determined, however,to keep Charlie close beside him all night, and also madeup his mind to keep a sharp look-out on the otherhorses.
At supper he again remonstrated.
"No 'fraid," said Pierre, whose pipe was beginning toimprove his temper. "The red reptiles no dare to comein open plain when de moon so clear.""Dun know that," said a taciturn trapper, who seldomventured a remark of any kind; "them varmints 'udsteal the two eyes out o' you' head when they set theirhearts on't.""Dat ar' umposs'ble, for dey have no hearts," said ahalf-breed; "dey have von hole vere de heart vasbe."This was received with a shout of laughter, in themidst of which an appalling yell was heard, and, as ifby magic, four Indians were seen on the backs of fourof the best horses, yelling like fiends, and driving all theother horses furiously before them over the plain!
How they got there was a complete mystery, but themen did not wait to consider that point. Catching uptheir guns they sprang after them with the fury of madmen,and were quickly scattered far and wide. Dickordered Crusoe to follow and help the men, and turnedto spring on the back of Charlie; but at that momenthe observed an Indian's head and shoulders rise abovethe grass, not fifty yards in advance from him, so withouthesitation he darted forward, intending to pounceupon him.
Well would it have been for Dick Varley had he atthat time possessed a little more experience of the wilesand stratagems of the Banattees. The Snake nation issubdivided into several tribes, of which those inhabitingthe Rocky Mountains, called the Banattees, are the mostperfidious. Indeed, they are confessedly the banditti ofthe hills, and respect neither friend nor foe, but rob allwho come in their way.
Dick reached the spot where the Indian had disappearedin less than a minute, but no savage was to beseen. Thinking he had crept ahead, he ran on a fewyards farther, and darted about hither and thither,while his eye glanced from side to side. Suddenly ashout in the camp attracted his attention, and lookingback he beheld the savage on Charlie's back turning tofly. Next moment he was off and away far beyond thehope of recovery. Dick had left his rifle in the camp,otherwise the savage would have gone but a short way.
As it was, Dick returned, and sitting down on a moundof grass, stared straight before him with a feeling akinto despair. Even Crusoe could not have helped himhad he been there, for nothing on four legs, or on two,could keep pace with Charlie.
The Banattee achieved this feat by adopting a stratagemwhich invariably deceives those who are ignorantof their habits and tactics. When suddenly pursued theBanattee sinks into the grass, and, serpent-like, creepsalong with wonderful rapidity, not from but towardshis enemy, taking care, however, to avoid him, so thatwhen the pursuer reaches the spot where the pursued issupposed to be hiding, he hears him shout a yell ofdefiance far away in the rear.
It was thus that the Banattee eluded Dick and gainedthe camp almost as soon as the other reached the spotwhere he had disappeared.
One by one the trappers came back weary, raging,and despairing. In a short time they all assembled,and soon began to reproach each other. Ere long oneor two had a fight, which resulted in several bloodynoses and black eyes, thus adding to the misery which,one would think, had been bad enough without suchadditions. At last they finished their suppers and theirpipes, and then lay down to sleep under the trees tillmorning, when they arose in a particularly silent andsulky mood, rolled up their blankets, strapped theirthings on their shoulders, and began to trudge slowlyback to the camp on foot.
CHAPTER XXI.
 Wolves attack the horses, and Cameron circumvents thewolves--A bear-hunt, in which Henri shinesconspicuous--Joe and the "Natter-list"--Analarm--A surprise and a capture.
We must now return to the camp where WalterCameron still guarded the goods, and the menpursued their trapping avocations.
Here seven of the horses had been killed in one nightby wolves while grazing in a plain close to the camp,and on the night following a horse that had strayedwas also torn to pieces and devoured. The prompt anddaring manner in which this had been done convincedthe trader that white wolves had unfortunately scentedthem out, and he set several traps in the hope of capturingthem.
White wolves are quite distinct from the ordinarywolves that prowl through woods and plains in largepacks. They are much larger, weighing sometimes asmuch as a hundred and thirty pounds; but they arecomparatively scarce, and move about alone, or in smallbands of three or four. Their strength is enormous,and they are so fierce that they do not hesitate, uponoccasions, to attack man himself. Their method ofkilling horses is very deliberate. Two wolves generallyundertake the cold-blooded murder. They approachtheir victim with the most innocent-looking and frolicsomegambols, lying down and rolling about, andfrisking presently, until the horse becomes a littleaccustomed to them. Then one approaches right infront, the other in rear, still frisking playfully, untilthey think themselves near enough, when they makea simultaneous rush. The wolf which approaches inrear is the true assailant; the rush of the other is amere feint. Then both fasten on the poor horse'shaunches, and never let go till the sinews are cut andhe is rolling on his side.
The horse makes comparatively little struggle inthis deadly assault; he seems paralyzed, and soon fallsto rise no more.
Cameron set his traps towards evening in a circlewith a bait in the centre, and then retired to rest.
Next morning he called Joe Blunt, and the two wentoff together.
"It is strange that these rascally white wolves shouldbe so bold when the smaller kinds are so cowardly,"remarked Cameron, as they walked along.
"So 'tis," replied Joe; "but I've seed them otherchaps bold enough too in the prairie when they werein large packs and starvin'.""I believe the small wolves follow the big fellows,and help them to eat what they kill, though theygenerally sit round and look on at the killing.""Hist!" exclaimed Joe, cocking his gun; "there heis, an' no mistake."There he was, undoubtedly. A wolf of the largestsize with one of his feet in the trap. He was a terrible-lookingobject, for, besides his immense size and naturallyferocious aspect, his white hair bristled on end andwas all covered with streaks and spots of blood fromhis bloody jaws. In his efforts to escape he had bittenthe trap until he had broken his teeth and lacerated hisgums, so that his appearance was hideous in the extreme.
And when the two men came up he struggled with allhis might to fly at them.
Cameron and Joe stood looking at him in a sort ofwondering admiration.
"We'd better put a ball in him," suggested Joe aftera time. "Mayhap the chain won't stand sich tugs long.""True, Joe; if it break, we might get an ugly nipbefore we killed him."So saying Cameron fired into the wolf's head andkilled it. It was found, on examination, that fourwolves had been in the traps, but the rest had escaped.
Two of them, however, had gnawed off their paws andleft them lying in the traps.
After this the big wolves did not trouble them again.
The same afternoon a bear-hunt was undertaken, whichwell-nigh cost one of the Iroquois his life. It happenedthus:--While Cameron and Joe were away after the whitewolves, Henri came floundering into camp tossing hisarms like a maniac, and shouting that "seven bars wosbe down in de bush close by!" It chanced that thiswas an idle day with most of the men, so they all leapedon their horses, and taking guns and knives sallied forthto give battle to the bears.
Arrived at the scene of action, they found the sevenbears busily engaged in digging up roots, so the menseparated in order to surround them, and then closed in.
The place was partly open and partly covered withthick bushes into which a horseman could not penetrate.
The moment the bears got wind of what was goingforward they made off as fast as possible, and then commenceda scene of firing, galloping, and yelling thatdefies description! Four out of the seven were shotbefore they gained the bushes; the other three werewounded, but made good their retreat. As their placesof shelter, however, were like islands in the plain, theyhad no chance of escaping.
The horsemen now dismounted and dashed recklesslyinto the bushes, where they soon discovered and killedtwo of the bears; the third was not found for sometime. At last an Iroquois came upon it so suddenlythat he had not time to point his gun before the bearsprang upon him and struck him to the earth, where itheld him down.
Instantly the place was surrounded by eager men; butthe bushes were so thick, and the fallen trees amongwhich the bear stood were so numerous, that they couldnot use their guns without running the risk of shootingtheir companion. Most of them drew their knives andseemed about to rush on the bear with these; but themonster's aspect, as it glared around, was so terrible thatthey held back for a moment in hesitation.
At this moment Henri, who had been at some distanceengaged in the killing of one of the other bears, camerushing forward after his own peculiar manner.
"Ah! fat is eet--hay? de bar no go under yit?"Just then his eye fell on the wounded Iroquois withthe bear above him, and he uttered a yell so intense intone that the bear himself seemed to feel that somethingdecisive was about to be done at last. Henridid not pause, but with a flying dash he sprang like aspread eagle, arms and legs extended, right into thebear's bosom. At the same moment he sent his longhunting-knife down into its heart. But Bruin is proverbiallyhard to kill, and although mortally wounded,he had strength enough to open his jaws and close themon Henri's neck.
There was a cry of horror, and at the same momenta volley was fired at the bear's head; for the trappersfelt that it was better to risk shooting their comradesthan see them killed before their eyes. Fortunatelythe bullets took effect, and tumbled him over at oncewithout doing damage to either of the men, althoughseveral of the balls just grazed Henri's temple andcarried off his cap.
Although uninjured by the shot, the poor Iroquoishad not escaped scathless from the paw of the bear.
His scalp was torn almost off, and hung down over hiseyes, while blood streamed down his face. He wasconveyed by his comrades to the camp, where he laytwo days in a state of insensibility, at the end of whichtime he revived and recovered daily. Afterwards whenthe camp moved he had to be carried; but in the courseof two months he was as well as ever, and quite as fondof bear-hunting!
Among other trophies of this hunt there were twodeer and a buffalo, which last had probably strayed fromthe herd. Four or five Iroquois were round this animalwhetting their knives for the purpose of cutting it upwhen Henri passed, so he turned aside to watch themperform the operation, quite regardless of the fact thathis neck and face were covered with blood which flowedfrom one or two small punctures made by the bear.
The Indians began by taking off the skin, whichcertainly did not occupy them more than five minutes.
Then they cut up the meat and made a pack of it, andcut out the tongue, which is somewhat troublesome, asthat member requires to be cut out from under the jawof the animal, and not through the natural opening ofthe mouth. One of the fore legs was cut off at theknee joint, and this was used as a hammer with whichto break the skull for the purpose of taking out thebrains, these being used in the process of dressing andsoftening the animal's skin. An axe would have beenof advantage to break the skull, but in the hurry ofrushing to the attack the Indians had forgotten theiraxes; so they adopted the common fashion of using thebuffalo's hoof as a hammer, the shank being the handle.
The whole operation of flaying, cutting up, and packingthe meat did not occupy more than twenty minutes.
Before leaving the ground these expert butchers treatedthemselves to a little of the marrow and warm liver ina raw state!
Cameron and Joe walked up to the group while theywere indulging in this little feast.
"Well, I've often seen that eaten, but I never coulddo it myself," remarked the former.
"No!" cried Joe in surprise; "now that's oncommoncur'us. I've lived on raw liver an' marrow-bones fortwo or three days at a time, when we wos chased by theCamanchee Injuns an' didn't dare to make a fire; an' it'sra'al good, it is. Won't ye try it now?"Cameron shook his head.
"No, thankee; I'll not refuse when I can't help it,but until then I'll remain in happy ignorance of howgood it is.""Well, it is strange how some folk can't abide anythingin the meat way they ha'n't bin used to. D'yeknow I've actually knowed men from the cities aswouldn't eat a bit o' horseflesh for love or money.
Would ye believe it?""I can well believe that, Joe, for I have met withsuch persons myself; in fact, they are rather numerous.
What are you chuckling at, Joe?""Chucklin'? If ye mean be that 'larfin in to myself,'
it's because I'm thinkin' o' a chap as once comed out tothe prairies.""Let us walk back to the camp, Joe, and you cantell me about him as we go along.""I think," continued Joe, "he comed from Washington,but I never could make out right whether he wosa Government man or not. Anyhow, he wos a pheelosopher--anatter-list I think he call his-self--""A naturalist," suggested Cameron.
"Ay, that wos more like it. Well, he wos about sixfeet two in his moccasins, an' as thin as a ramrod, an' asblind as a bat--leastways he had weak eyes an' woregreen spectacles. He had on a gray shootin' coat an'
trousers an' vest an' cap, with rid whiskers an' a longnose as rid at the point as the whiskers wos.""Well, this gentleman engaged me an' another hunterto go a trip with him into the prairies, so off we sot onefine day on three hosses, with our blankets at our backs--wewos to depend on the rifle for victuals. At first Ithought the natter-list one o' the cruellest beggars asiver went on two long legs, for he used to go abouteverywhere pokin' pins through all the beetles an' fliesan' creepin' things he could sot eyes on, an' stuck themin a box. But he told me he comed here a-purpose togit as many o' them as he could; so says I, 'If that's it,I'll fill yer box in no time.'
"'Will ye?' says he, quite pleased like.
"'I will,' says I, an' galloped off to a place as wasfilled wi' all sorts o' crawlin' things. So I sets to work,an' whenever I seed a thing crawlin' I sot my fut on itan' crushed it, an' soon filled my breast pocket. Icotched a lot o' butterflies too, an' stuffed them into myshot-pouch, an' went back in an hour or two an' showedhim the lot. He put on his green spectacles an' lookedat them as if he'd seen a rattlesnake.
"'My good man,' says he, 'you've crushed them allto pieces!'
"'They'll taste as good for all that,' says I; forsomehow I'd taken't in me head that he'd heard o' theway the Injuns make soup o' the grasshoppers, an' woswantin' to try his hand at a new dish!
"He laughed when I said this, an' told me he woscollectin' them to take home to be looked at. But that'snot wot I was goin' to tell ye about him," continuedJoe; "I wos goin' to tell ye how we made him eathorseflesh. He carried a revolver, too, this natter-listdid, to load wi' shot as small as dust a'most, an' shootlittle birds with. I've seed him miss birds only threefeet away with it. An' one day he drew it all of a suddent an' let flyat abig bum-bee that wos passin',yellin' out that it wos the finest wot he had iver seed.
He missed the bee, of coorse, 'cause it wos a flyin' shot,he said, but he sent the whole charge right into Martin'sback--Martin was my comrade's name. By good luckMartin had on a thick leather coat, so the shot nivergot the length o' his skin.""One day I noticed that the natter-list had stuffedsmall corks into the muzzles of all the six barrels of hisrevolver. I wondered what they wos for, but he wosal'ays doin' sich queer things that I soon forgot it.
'Maybe,' thought I, jist before it went out o' my mind--'maybehe thinks that'll stop the pistol from goin'
off by accident;' for ye must know he'd let it off threetimes the first day by accident, an' well-nigh blowedoff his leg the last time, only the shot lodged in theback o' a big toad he'd jist stuffed into his breechespocket. Well, soon after we shot a buffalo bull, sowhen it fell, off he jumps from his horse an' runs up toit. So did I, for I wasn't sure the beast was dead,an' I had jist got up when it rose an' rushed at thenatter-list.
"'Out o' the way,' I yelled, for my rifle was empty;but he didn't move, so I rushed for'ard an' drew thepistol out o' his belt and let fly in the bull's ribs jistas it ran the poor man down. Martin came up thatmoment an' put a ball through its heart, an' then wewent to pick up the natter-list. He came to in alittle, an' the first thing he said was, 'Where's my revolver?'
When I gave it to him he looked at it, an' saidwith a solemcholy shake o' the head, 'There's a wholebarrel-full lost!' It turned out that he had taken tousin' the barrels for bottles to hold things in, but heforgot to draw the charges, so sure enough I had fireda charge o' bum-bees an' beetles an' small shot intothe buffalo!
"But that's not what I wos goin' to tell ye yit. Wecorned to a part o' the plains where we wos well-nighstarved for want o' game, an' the natter-list got sothin that ye could a'most see through him, so I offeredto kill my horse, an' cut it up for meat; but you niversaw sich a face he made. 'I'd rather die first,' says he,'than eat it;' so we didn't kill it. But that very dayMartin got a shot at a wild horse an' killed it. Thenatter-list was down in the bed o' a creek at the timegropin' for creepers, an' he didn't see it.
"'He'll niver eat it,' says Martin.
"'That's true,' says I.
"'Let's tell him it's a buffalo,' says he.
"'That would be tellin' a lie,' says I.
"So we stood lookin' at each other, not knowin' whatto do.
"'I'll tell ye what,' cries Martin; 'we'll cut it up,and take the meat into camp an' cook it without sayin'
a word.'
"'Done,' says I, 'that's it;' for ye must know thepoor critter wos no judge o' meat. He couldn't tell one kind fromanother,an' he niver axed questions.
In fact he niver a'most spoke to us all the trip. Well,we cut up the horse, an' carried the flesh an' marrowbonesinto camp, takin' care to leave the hoofs an' skinbehind, an' sot to work an' roasted steaks an' marrowbones.""When the natter-list came back ye should ha' seenthe joyful face he put on when he smelt the grub, forhe was all but starved out, poor critter.""'What have we got here?' cried he, rubbin' hishands an' sittin' down.""'Steaks an' marrow-bones,' says Martin.""'Capital!' says he. 'I'm so hungry.'""So he fell to work like a wolf. I niver seed a manpitch into anything like as that natter-list did into thathorseflesh.""'These are first-rate marrow-bones,' says he, squintin'
with one eye down the shin-bone o' the hind leg to see ifit was quite empty.""'Yes, sir, they is,' answered Martin, as grave as a judge.""'Take another, sir,' says I.""'No, thankee,' says he with a sigh, for he didn'tlike to leave off.""Well, we lived for a week on horseflesh, an' first-ratelivin' it wos; then we fell in with buffalo, an' niverran short again till we got to the settlements, whenhe paid us our money an' shook hands, sayin' we'd hada nice trip, an' he wished us well. Jist as we wospartin' I said, says I, 'D'ye know what it wos we livedon for a week arter we wos well-nigh starved in theprairies?'""'What,' says he, 'when we got yon capital marrowbones?'""'The same,' says I. 'Yon wos horse flesh,' says I;'an' I think ye'll surely niver say again that it isn'tfirst-rate livin'.'""'Ye're jokin',' says he, turnin' pale.""'It's true, sir; as true as ye're standin' there.'""Well, would ye believe it, he turned--that natter-listdid--as sick as a dog on the spot wot he wosstandin' on, an' didn't taste meat again for three days!"Shortly after the conclusion of Joe's story theyreached the camp, and here they found the women andchildren flying about in a state of terror, and the fewmen who had been left in charge arming themselves inthe greatest haste.
"Hallo! something wrong here," cried Cameron,hastening forward, followed by Joe. "What has happened,eh?""Injuns comin', monsieur; look dere," answered atrapper, pointing down the valley.
"Arm and mount at once, and come to the front ofthe camp," cried Cameron in a tone of voice that silencedevery other, and turned confusion into order.
The cause of all this outcry was a cloud of dust seenfar down the valley, which was raised by a band ofmounted Indians who approached the camp at fullspeed. Their numbers could not be made out, but theywere a sufficiently formidable band to cause muchanxiety to Cameron, whose men, at the time, werescattered to the various trapping-grounds, and only tenchanced to be within call of the camp. However, withthese ten he determined to show a bold front to thesavages, whether they came as friends or foes. Hetherefore ordered the women and children within thecitadel formed of the goods and packs of furs piledupon each other, which point of retreat was to be defendedto the last extremity. Then galloping to thefront he collected his men and swept down the valley atfull speed. In a few minutes they were near enough toobserve that the enemy only numbered four Indians,who were driving a band of about a hundred horsesbefore them, and so busy were they in keeping thetroop together that Cameron and his men were closeupon them before they were observed.
It was too late to escape. Joe Blunt and Henri hadalready swept round and cut off their retreat. In thisextremity the Indians slipped from the backs of theirsteeds and darted into the bushes, where they weresafe from pursuit, at least on horseback, while thetrappers got behind the horses and drove them towardsthe camp.
At this moment one of the horses sprang ahead ofthe others and made for the mountain, with its maneand tail flying wildly in the breeze.
"Marrow-bones and buttons!" shouted one of themen, "there goes Dick Varley's horse.""So it am!" cried Henri, and dashed off in pursuit,followed by Joe and two others.
"Why, these are our own horses," said Cameron insurprise, as they drove them into a corner of the hillsfrom which they could not escape.
This was true, but it was only half the truth, for,besides their own horses, they had secured upwards ofseventy Indian steeds; a most acceptable addition totheir stud, which, owing to casualties and wolves, hadbeen diminishing too much of late. The fact was thatthe Indians who had captured the horses belonging toPierre and his party were a small band of robbers whohad travelled, as was afterwards learned, a considerabledistance from the south, stealing horses from varioustribes as they went along. As we have seen, in an evilhour they fell in with Pierre's party and carried offtheir steeds, which they drove to a pass leading fromone valley to the other. Here they united them withthe main band of their ill-gotten gains, and while thegreater number of the robbers descended farther intothe plains in search of more booty, four of them weresent into the mountains with the horses already procured.
These four, utterly ignorant of the presence ofwhite men in the valley, drove their charge, as we haveseen, almost into the camp.
Cameron immediately organized a party to go out insearch of Pierre and his companions, about whose fatehe became intensely anxious, and in the course of half-an-houras many men as he could spare with safety weredespatched in the direction of the Blue Mountains.
CHAPTER XXII.
 Charlie's adventures with savages and bears--Trappinglife.
It is one thing to chase a horse; it is another thingto catch it. Little consideration and less sagacityare required to convince us of the truth of that fact.
The reader may perhaps venture to think this rathera trifling fact. We are not so sure of that. In thisworld of fancies, to have any fact incontestably provedand established is a comfort, and whatever is a sourceof comfort to mankind is worthy of notice. Surely ourreader won't deny that! Perhaps he will, so we canonly console ourself with the remark that there arepeople in this world who would deny anything--whowould deny that there was a nose on their face if yousaid there was!
Well, to return to the point, which was the chase ofa horse in the abstract; from which we will rapidlydiverge to the chase of Dick Varley's horse in particular.
This noble charger, having been ridden by savages untilall his old fire and blood and mettle were worked upto a red heat, no sooner discovered that he was pursuedthan he gave a snort of defiance, which he accompaniedwith a frantic shake of his mane and a flingof contempt in addition to a magnificent wave ofhis tail. Then he thundered up the valley at a pacewhich would speedily have left Joe Blunt and Henriout of sight behind if--ay! that's the word, if! Whata word that if is! what a world of if's we live in!
There never was anything that wouldn't have beensomething else if something hadn't intervened to preventit! Yes, we repeat Charlie would have left histwo friends miles and miles behind in what is called"no time," if he had not run straight into a gorgewhich was surrounded by inaccessible precipices, andout of which there was no exit except by the entrance,which was immediately barred by Henri, while Joeadvanced to catch the run-away.
For two hours at least did Joe Blunt essay to catchCharlie, and during that space of time he utterly failedThe horse seemed to have made up his mind for whatis vulgarly termed "a lark.""It won't do, Henri," said Joe, advancing towardshis companion, and wiping his forehead with the cuffof his leathern coat; "I can't catch him. The wind'sa'most blowed out o' me body.""Dat am vexatiable," replied Henri, in a tone ofcommiseration. "S'pose I wos make try?""In that case I s'pose ye would fail. But go ahead,an' do what ye can. I'll hold yer horse."So Henri began by a rush and a flourish of legs andarms that nearly frightened the horse out of his wits.
For half-an-hour he went through all the complicationsof running and twisting of which he was capable, withoutsuccess, when Joe Blunt suddenly uttered a stentorianyell that rooted him to the spot on which hestood.
To account for this, we must explain that in theheights of the Rocky Mountains vast accumulations ofsnow take place among the crevices and gorges duringwinter. Such of these masses as form on steep slopesare loosened by occasional thaws, and are precipitatedin the form of avalanches into the valleys below, carryingtrees and stones along with them in their thunderingdescent. In the gloomy gorge where Dick'shorse had taken refuge the precipices were so steep thatmany avalanches had occurred, as was evident from themounds of heaped snow that lay at the foot of most ofthem. Neither stones nor trees were carried down here,however, for the cliffs were nearly perpendicular, andthe snow slipping over their edges had fallen on thegrass below. Such an avalanche was now about to takeplace, and it was this that caused Joe to utter his cryof alarm and warning.
Henri and the horse were directly under the cliff overwhich it was about to be hurled, the latter close to thewall of rock, the other at some distance away from it.
Joe cried again, "Back, Henri! back vite!" whenthe mass flowed over and fell with a roar like prolongedthunder. Henri sprang back in time to save his life,though he was knocked down and almost stunned; butpoor Charlie was completely buried under the avalanche,which now presented the appearance of a hill of snow.
The instant Henri recovered sufficiently, Joe and hemounted their horses and galloped back to the camp asfast as possible.
Meanwhile, another spectator stepped forward uponthe scene they had left, and surveyed the snow hillwith a critical eye. This was no less than a grizzlybear, which had, unobserved, been a spectator, and whichimmediately proceeded to dig into the mound, with thepurpose, no doubt, of disentombing the carcass of thehorse for purposes of his own.
While he was thus actively engaged the two huntersreached the camp, where they found that Pierre and hisparty had just arrived. The men sent out in search ofthem had scarcely advanced a mile when they foundthem trudging back to the camp in a very disconsolatemanner. But all their sorrows were put to flight onhearing of the curious way in which the horses hadbeen returned to them with interest.
Scarcely had Dick Varley, however, congratulatedhimself on the recovery of his gallant steed, when hewas thrown into despair by the sudden arrival of Joewith the tidings of the catastrophe we have just related.
Of course there was a general rush to the rescue.
Only a few men were ordered to remain to guard thecamp, while the remainder mounted their horses andgalloped towards the gorge where Charlie had been entombed.
On arriving, they found that Bruin hadworked with such laudable zeal that nothing but thetip of his tail was seen sticking out of the hole whichhe had dug. The hunters could not refrain fromlaughing as they sprang to the ground, and standing ina semicircle in front of the hole, prepared to fire. ButCrusoe resolved to have the honour of leading theassault. He seized fast hold of Bruin's flank, andcaused his teeth to meet therein. Caleb backed outat once and turned round, but before he could recoverfrom his surprise a dozen bullets pierced his heart andbrain.
"Now, lads," cried Cameron, setting to work with alarge wooden shovel, "work like niggers. If there'sany life left in the horse, it'll soon be smothered outunless we set him free."The men needed no urging, however. They workedas if their lives depended on their exertions. DickVarley, in particular, laboured like a young Hercules,and Henri hurled masses of snow about in a most surprisingmanner. Crusoe, too, entered heartily into thespirit of the work, and, scraping with his forepaws,sent such a continuous shower of snow behind him thathe was speedily lost to view in a hole of his own excavating.
In the course of half-an-hour a cavern wasdug in the mound almost close up to the cliff, and themen were beginning to look about for the crushed bodyof Dick's steed, when an exclamation from Henri attractedtheir attention.
"Ha! mes ami, here am be one hole."The truth of this could not be doubted, for theeccentric trapper had thrust his shovel through thewall of snow into what appeared to be a cavern beyond,and immediately followed up his remark by thrustingin his head and shoulders. He drew them out in a fewseconds, with a look of intense amazement.
"Voilà! Joe Blunt. Look in dere, and you shall seefat you vill behold.""Why, it's the horse, I do b'lieve!" cried Joe. "Goahead, lads!"So saying, he resumed his shovelling vigorously, andin a few minutes the hole was opened up sufficiently toenable a man to enter. Dick sprang in, and there stoodCharlie close beside the cliff, looking as sedate and,unconcerned as if all that had been going on had noreference to him whatever.
The cause of his safety was simple enough. Theprecipice beside which he stood when the avalancheoccurred overhung its base at that point considerably,so that when the snow descended a clear space ofseveral feet wide was left all along its base. HereCharlie had remained in perfect comfort until hisfriends dug him out.
Congratulating themselves not a little on having savedthe charger and bagged a grizzly bear, the trappers remounted,and returned to the camp.
For some time after this nothing worthy of particularnote occurred. The trapping operations went onprosperously and without interruption from the Indians,who seemed to have left the locality altogether. Duringthis period, Dick, and Crusoe, and Charlie had manyexcursions together, and the silver rifle full many a timesent death to the heart of bear, and elk, and buffalo;while, indirectly, it sent joy to the heart of man,woman, and child in camp, in the shape of juicy steaksand marrow-bones. Joe and Henri devoted themselvesalmost exclusively to trapping beaver, in which pursuitthey were so successful that they speedily becamewealthy men, according to backwood notions of wealth.
With the beaver that they caught they purchased fromCameron's store powder and shot enough for a longhunting expedition, and a couple of spare horses tocarry their packs. They also purchased a large assortmentof such goods and trinkets as would prove acceptableto Indians, and supplied themselves with newblankets, and a few pairs of strong moccasins, of whichthey stood much in need.
Thus they went on from day to day, until symptomsof the approach of winter warned them that it was timeto return to the Mustang Valley. About this time anevent occurred which totally changed the aspect ofaffairs in these remote valleys of the Rocky Mountains,and precipitated the departure of our four friends, Dick,Joe, Henri, and Crusoe. This was the sudden arrival ofa whole tribe of Indians. As their advent was somewhatremarkable, we shall devote to it the commencementof a new chapter.
CHAPTER XXIII.
 Savage sports--Living cataracts--An alarm--Indians and theirdoings--The stampede--Charlie again.
One day Dick Varley was out on a solitary huntingexpedition near the rocky gorge where his horsehad received temporary burial a week or two before.
Crusoe was with him, of course. Dick had tied Charlieto a tree, and was sunning himself on the edge of a cliff,from the top of which he had a fine view of the valleyand the rugged precipices that hemmed it in.
Just in front of the spot on which he sat, the precipiceson the opposite side of the gorge rose to a considerableheight above him, so that their ragged outlines weredrawn sharply across the clear sky. Dick was gazingin dreamy silence at the jutting rocks and dark caverns,and speculating on the probable number of bears thatdwelt there, when a slight degree of restlessness on thepart of Crusoe attracted him.
"What is't, pup?" said he, laying his hand on thedog's broad back.
Crusoe looked the answer, "I don't know, Dick, butit's something, you may depend upon it, else I wouldnot have disturbed you."Dick lifted his rifle from the ground, and laid it inthe hollow of his left arm.
"There must be something in the wind," remarked Dick.
As wind is known to be composed of two distinctgases, Crusoe felt perfectly safe in replying "Yes" withhis tail. Immediately after he added, "Hallo! did youhear that?" with his ears.
Dick did hear it, and sprang hastily to his feet, asa sound like, yet unlike, distant thunder came faintlydown upon the breeze. In a few seconds the soundincreased to a roar in which was mingled the wild criesof men. Neither Dick nor Crusoe moved, for thesounds came from behind the heights in front of them,and they felt that the only way to solve the question,"What can the sounds be?" was to wait till the soundsshould solve it themselves.
Suddenly the muffled sounds gave place to the distinctbellowing of cattle, the clatter of innumerablehoofs, and the yells of savage men, while at the samemoment the edges of the opposite cliffs became alivewith Indians and buffaloes rushing about in frantichaste--the former almost mad with savage excitement,the latter with blind rage and terror.
On reaching the edge of the dizzy precipice, thebuffaloes turned abruptly and tossed their ponderousheads as they coursed along the edge. Yet a few ofthem, unable to check their headlong course, fell over,and were dashed to pieces on the rocks below. Suchfalls, Dick observed, were hailed with shouts of delightby the Indians, whose sole object evidently was toenjoy the sport of driving the terrified animals over theprecipice. The wily savages had chosen their groundwell for this purpose.
The cliff immediately opposite to Dick Varley was ahuge projection from the precipice that hemmed in thegorge, a species of cape or promontory several hundredyards wide at the base, and narrowing abruptly to apoint. The sides of this wedge-shaped projection werequite perpendicular--indeed, in some places the top overhungthe base--and they were at least three hundred feethigh. Broken and jagged rocks, of that peculiarlychaotic character which probably suggested the name tothis part of the great American chain, projected fromand were scattered all round the cliffs. Over these theIndians, whose numbers increased every moment, stroveto drive the luckless herd of buffaloes that had chancedto fall in their way. The task was easy. The unsuspectinganimals, of which there were hundreds, rushedin a dense mass upon the cape referred to. On theycame with irresistible impetuosity, bellowing furiously,while their hoofs thundered on the turf with the muffledcontinuous roar of a distant but mighty cataract; theIndians, meanwhile, urging them on by hideous yells andfrantic gestures.
The advance-guard came bounding madly to the edgeof the precipice. Here they stopped short, and gazedaffrighted at the gulf below. It was but for a moment.
The irresistible momentum of the flying mass behindpushed them over. Down they came, absolutely a livingcataract, upon the rocks below. Some struck on theprojecting rocks in the descent, and their bodies weredashed almost in pieces, while their blood spurted outin showers. Others leaped from rock to rock withawful bounds, until, losing their foothold, they fellheadlong; while others descended sheer down into thesweltering mass that lay shattered at the base of thecliffs.
Dick Varley and his dog remained rooted to therock, as they gazed at the sickening sight, as if petrified.
Scarce fifty of that noble herd of buffaloes escaped theawful leap, but they escaped only to fall before thearrows of their ruthless pursuers. Dick had oftenheard of this tendency of the Indians, where buffaloeswere very numerous, to drive them over precipices inmere wanton sport and cruelty, but he had never seenit until now, and the sight filled his soul with horror.
It was not until the din and tumult of the perishingherd and the shrill yells of the Indians had almost diedaway that he turned to quit the spot. But the instanthe did so another shout was raised. The savages hadobserved him, and were seen galloping along the cliffstowards the head of the gorge, with the obvious intentionof gaining the other side and capturing him. Dicksprang on Charlie's back, and the next instant was flyingdown the valley towards the camp.
He did not, however, fear being overtaken, for thegorge could not be crossed, and the way round the headof it was long and rugged; but he was anxious to alarmthe camp as quickly as possible, so that they mighthave time to call in the more distant trappers and makepreparations for defence.
"Where away now, youngster?" inquired Cameron,emerging from his tent as Dick, taking the brook thatflowed in front at a flying leap, came crashing throughthe bushes into the midst of the fur-packs at full speed.
"Injuns!" ejaculated Dick, reining up, and vaultingout of the saddle. "Hundreds of 'em. Fiends incarnateevery one!""Are they near?""Yes; an hour'll bring them down on us. Are Joeand Henri far from camp to-day?""At Ten-mile Creek," replied Cameron with an expressionof bitterness, as he caught up his gun andshouted to several men, who hurried up on seeing ourhero burst into camp.
"Ten-mile Creek!" muttered Dick. "I'll bring 'emin, though," he continued, glancing at several of thecamp horses that grazed close at hand.
In another moment he was on Charlie's back, theline of one of the best horses was in his hand, and almostbefore Cameron knew what he was about he wasflying down the valley like the wind. Charlie oftenstretched out at full speed to please his young master,but seldom had he been urged forward as he was uponthis occasion. The led horse being light and wild, keptwell up, and in a marvellously short space of time theywere at Ten-mile Creek.
"Hallo, Dick, wot's to do?" inquired Joe Blunt, whowas up to his knees in the water setting a trap at themoment his friend galloped up.
"Injuns! Where's Henri?" demanded Dick.
"At the head o' the dam there."Dick was off in a moment, and almost instantly returnedwith Henri galloping beside him.
No word was spoken. In time of action these mendid not waste words. During Dick's momentaryabsence, Joe Blunt had caught up his rifle and examinedthe priming, so that when Dick pulled up besidehim he merely laid his hand on the saddle, saying, "Allright!" as he vaulted on Charlie's back behind hisyoung companion. In another moment they were awayat full speed. The mustang seemed to feel that unwontedexertions were required of him. Doubleweighted though he was, he kept well up with the otherhorse, and in less than two hours after Dick's leavingthe camp the three hunters came in sight of it.
Meanwhile Cameron had collected nearly all hisforces and put his camp in a state of defence before theIndians arrived, which they did suddenly, and, as usual,at full gallop, to the amount of at least two hundred.
They did not at first seem disposed to hold friendlyintercourse with the trappers, but assembled in a semicircleround the camp in a menacing attitude, while oneof their chiefs stepped forward to hold a palaver. Forsome time the conversation on both sides was politeenough, but by degrees the Indian chief assumed animperious tone, and demanded gifts from the trappers,taking care to enforce his request by hinting that thousandsof his countrymen were not far distant. Cameronstoutly refused, and the palaver threatened to come toan abrupt and unpleasant termination just at the timethat Dick and his friends appeared on the scene ofaction.
The brook was cleared at a bound; the three huntersleaped from their steeds and sprang to the front witha degree of energy that had a visible effect on thesavages; and Cameron, seizing the moment, proposedthat the two parties should smoke a pipe and hold acouncil. The Indians agreed, and in a few minutesthey were engaged in animated and friendly intercourse.
The speeches were long, and the compliments paid oneither side were inflated, and, we fear, undeserved; butthe result of the interview was, that Cameron made theIndians a present of tobacco and a few trinkets, andsent them back to their friends to tell them that hewas willing to trade with them.
Next day the whole tribe arrived in the valley, andpitched their deerskin tents on the plain opposite tothe camp of the white men. Their numbers far exceededCameron's expectation, and it was with someanxiety that he proceeded to strengthen his fortificationsas much as circumstances and the nature of theground would admit.
The Indian camp, which numbered upwards of athousand souls, was arranged with great regularity, andwas divided into three distinct sections, each sectionbeing composed of a separate tribe. The Great Snakenation at that time embraced three tribes or divisions--namely,the Shirry-dikas, or dog-eaters; the War-are-ree-kas,or fish-eaters; and the Banattees, or robbers.
These were the most numerous and powerfulIndians on the west side of the Rocky Mountains. TheShirry-dikas dwelt in the plains, and hunted the buffaloes;dressed well; were cleanly; rich in horses; bold,independent, and good warriors. The War-are-ree-kaslived chiefly by fishing, and were found on the banksof the rivers and lakes throughout the country. Theywere more corpulent, slovenly, and indolent than theShirry-dikas, and more peaceful. The Banattees, aswe have before mentioned, were the robbers of themountains. They were a wild and contemptible race,and at enmity with every one. In summer they wentabout nearly naked. In winter they clothed themselvesin the skins of rabbits and wolves. Being excellentmimics, they could imitate the howling ofwolves, the neighing of horses, and the cries of birds, bywhich means they could approach travellers, rob them,and then fly to their rocky fastnesses in the mountains,where pursuit was vain.
Such were the men who now assembled in front ofthe camp of the fur-traders, and Cameron soon foundthat the news of his presence in the country had spreadfar and wide among the natives, bringing them to theneighbourhood of his camp in immense crowds, so thatduring the next few days their numbers increased tothousands.
Several long palavers quickly ensued between thered men and the white, and the two great chiefs whoseemed to hold despotic rule over the assembled tribeswere extremely favourable to the idea of universal peacewhich was propounded to them. In several set speechesof great length and very considerable power, thesenatural orators explained their willingness to enter intoamicable relations with all the surrounding nations, aswell as with the white men.
"But," said Pee-eye-em, the chief of the Shirry-dikas,a man above six feet high, and of immense muscularstrength--"but my tribe cannot answer for the Banattees,who are robbers, and cannot be punished, because they dwell inscatteredfamilies among the mountains. The Banattees are bad; they cannot betrusted."None of the Banattees were present at the councilwhen this was said; and if they had been it would havemattered little, for they were neither fierce nor courageous,although bold enough in their own haunts tomurder and rob the unwary.
The second chief did not quite agree with Pee-eye-em.
He said that it was impossible for them to makepeace with their natural enemies, the Peigans and theBlackfeet on the east side of the mountains. It wasvery desirable, he admitted; but neither of these tribeswould consent to it, he felt sure.
Upon this Joe Blunt rose and said, "The great chiefof the War-are-ree-kas is wise, and knows that enemiescannot be reconciled unless deputies are sent to makeproposals of peace.""The Pale-face does not know the Blackfeet," answeredthe chief. "Who will go into the lands of theBlackfeet? My young men have been sent once andagain, and their scalps are now fringes to the leggingsof their enemies. The War-are-ree-kas do not cross themountains but for the purpose of making war.""The chief speaks truth," returned Joe; "yet thereare three men round the council fire who will go to theBlackfeet and the Peigans with messages of peace fromthe Snakes if they wish it."Joe pointed to himself, Henri, and Dick as he spoke, and added, "Wethreedo not belong to the camp of the fur-traders; we only, lodge with themfora time. The Great Chief of the white men has sent us to make peacewith theRed-men, and to tell them that he desires to trade with them--toexchangehatchets, and guns, and blankets for furs."This declaration interested the two chiefs greatly, andafter a good deal of discussion they agreed to take advantageof Joe Blunt's offer; and appoint him as adeputy to the court of their enemies. Having arrangedthese matters to their satisfaction, Cameron bestowed ared flag and a blue surtout with brass buttons on eachof the chiefs, and a variety of smaller articles on theother members of the council, and sent them away in aparticularly amiable frame of mind.
Pee-eye-em burst the blue surtout at the shouldersand elbows in putting it on, as it was much too smallfor his gigantic frame; but never having seen such anarticle of apparel before, he either regarded this as thenatural and proper consequence of putting it on, or wastotally indifferent to it, for he merely looked at therents with a smile of satisfaction, while his squaw surreptitiouslycut off the two back buttons and thrustthem into her bosom.
By the time the council closed the night was far advanced,and a bright moon was shedding a flood of softlight over the picturesque and busy scene.
"I'll go to the Injun camp," said Joe to Walter Cameron,as the chiefs rose to depart. "The season's farenough advanced already; it's time to be off; and ifI'm to speak for the Redskins in the Blackfeet Council,I'd need to know what to say.""Please yourself, Master Blunt," answered Cameron.
"I like your company and that of your friends, and if it suited you Iwouldbe glad to take you along with us to the coast of the Pacific; butyourmission among theIndians is a good one, and I'll help it on all I can.--I suppose youwillgo also?" he added, turning to Dick Varley, who was still seatedbeside thecouncil fire caressing Crusoe.
"Wherever Joe goes, I go," answered Dick.
Crusoe's tail, ears, and eyes demonstrated high approvalof the sentiment involved in this speech.
"And your friend Henri?""He goes too," answered Joe. "It's as well that theRedskins should see the three o' us before we start forthe east side o' the mountains.--Ho, Henri! come here,lad."Henri obeyed, and in a few seconds the three friendscrossed the brook to the Indian camp, and were guidedto the principal lodge by Pee-eye-em. Here a greatcouncil was held, and the proposed attempt at negotiationsfor peace with their ancient enemies fully discussed.
While they were thus engaged, and just asPee-eye-em had, in the energy of an enthusiastic peroration,burst the blue surtout almost up to the collar, adistant rushing sound was heard, which caused everyman to spring to his feet, run out of the tent, and seizehis weapons.
"What can it be, Joe?" whispered Dick as they stoodat the tent door leaning on their rifles, and listeningintently.
"Dun'no'," answered Joe shortly.
Most of the numerous fires of the camp had gone out,but the bright moon revealed the dusky forms of thousands of Indians,whomthe unwonted sound had startled,moving rapidly about.
The mystery was soon explained. The Indian campwas pitched on an open plain of several miles in extent,which took a sudden bend half-a-mile distant, where aspur of the mountains shut out the farther end of thevalley from view. From beyond this point the dullrumbling sound proceeded. Suddenly there was a roaras if a mighty cataract had been let loose upon thescene. At the same moment a countless herd of wildhorses came thundering round the base of the mountainand swept over the plain straight towards the Indiancamp.
"A stampede!" cried Joe, springing to the assistanceof Pee-eye-em, whose favourite horses were picketednear the tent.
On they came like a living torrent, and the thunderof a thousand hoofs was soon mingled with the howlingof hundreds of dogs in the camp, and the yelling ofIndians, as they vainly endeavoured to restrain therising excitement of their steeds. Henri and Dickstood rooted to the ground, gazing in silent wonder atthe fierce and uncontrollable gallop of the thousands ofpanic-stricken horses that bore down upon the campwith the tumultuous violence of a mighty cataract.
As the maddened troop drew nigh, the camp horsesbegan to snort and tremble violently, and when therush of the wild steeds was almost upon them, theybecame ungovernable with terror, broke their haltersand hobbles, and dashed wildly about. To add to theconfusion at that moment, a cloud passed over the moonand threw the whole scene into deep obscurity. Blindwith terror, which was probably increased by the dinof their own mad flight, the galloping troop came on,and with a sound like the continuous roar of thunderthat for an instant drowned the yell of dog and manthey burst upon the camp, trampling over packs andskins, and dried meat, etc., in their headlong speed, andoverturning several of the smaller tents. In anothermoment they swept out upon the plain beyond, andwere soon lost in the darkness of the night, while theyelping of dogs, as they vainly pursued them, mingledand gradually died away with the distant thunder oftheir retreat.
This was a stampede, one of the most extraordinaryscenes that can be witnessed in the western wilderness.
"Lend a hand, Henri," shouted Joe, who was strugglingwith a powerful horse. "Wot's comed over yerbrains, man? This brute'll git off if you don't looksharp."Dick and Henri both answered to the summons, andthey succeeded in throwing the struggling animal on itsside and holding it down until its excitement was somewhatabated. Pee-eye-em had also been successful insecuring his favourite hunter: but nearly every otherhorse belonging to the camp had broken loose and joinedthe whirlwind gallop. But they gradually dropped out,and before morning the most of them were secured bytheir owners. As there were at least two thousandhorses and an equal number of dogs in the part of theIndian camp which had been thus overrun by the wildmustangs, the turmoil, as may be imagined, was prodigious!
Yet, strange to say, no accident of a seriousnature occurred beyond the loss of several chargers.
In the midst of this exciting scene there was oneheart which beat with a nervous vehemence that well-nighburst it. This was the heart of Dick Varley'shorse, Charlie. Well known to him was that distantrumbling sound that floated on the night air into thefur-traders' camp, where he was picketed close toCameron's tent. Many a time had he heard the approachof such a wild troop, and often, in days not longgone by, had his shrill neigh rung out as he joined andled the panic-stricken band. He was first to hear thesound, and by his restive actions to draw the attentionof the fur-traders to it. As a precautionary measurethey all sprang up and stood by their horses to soothethem, but as a brook with a belt of bushes and quarterof a mile of plain intervened between their camp andthe mustangs as they flew past, they had little or notrouble in restraining them. Not so, however, withCharlie. At the very moment that his master was congratulatinghimself on the supposed security of his position,he wrenched the halter from the hand of him whoheld it, burst through the barrier of felled trees thathad been thrown round the camp, cleared the brook ata bound, and with a wild hilarious neigh resumed hisold place in the ranks of the free-born mustangs of theprairie.
Little did Dick think, when the flood of horses sweptpast him, that his own good steed was there, rejoicingin his recovered liberty. But Crusoe knew it. Ay,the wind had borne down the information to his acutenose before the living storm burst upon the camp; andwhen Charlie rushed past, with the long tough haltertrailing at his heels, Crusoe sprang to his side, seizedthe end of the halter with his teeth, and galloped offalong with him.
It was a long gallop and a tough one, but Crusoe heldon, for it was a settled principle in his mind never togive in. At first the check upon Charlie's speed wasimperceptible, but by degrees the weight of the giganticdog began to tell, and after a time they fell a little tothe rear; then by good fortune the troop passed througha mass of underwood, and the line getting entangledbrought their mad career forcibly to a close; the mustangspassed on, and the two friends were left to keepeach other company in the dark.
How long they would have remained thus is uncertain,for neither of them had sagacity enough to undo acomplicated entanglement. Fortunately, however, in hisenergetic tugs at the line, Crusoe's sharp teeth partiallysevered it, and a sudden start on the part of Charliecaused it to part. Before he could escape, Crusoe againseized the end of it, and led him slowly but steadilyback to the Indian camp, never halting or turning asideuntil he had placed the line in Dick Varley's hand.
"Hallo, pup! where have ye bin? How did ye bringhim here?" exclaimed Dick, as he gazed in amazementat his foam-covered horse.
Crusoe wagged his tail, as if to say, "Be thankfulthat you've got him, Dick, my boy, and don't ask questionsthat you know I can't answer.""He must ha' broke loose and jined the stampede,"remarked Joe, coming out of the chief's tent at themoment; "but tie him up, Dick, and come in, for wewant to settle about startin' to-morrow or nixt day."Having fastened Charlie to a stake, and orderedCrusoe to watch him, Dick re-entered the tent wherethe council had reassembled, and where Pee-eye-em--having,in the recent struggle, split the blue surtoutcompletely up to the collar, so that his backbone wasvisible throughout the greater part of its length--washolding forth in eloquent strains on the subject of peacein general and peace with the Blackfeet, the ancientenemies of the Shirry-dikas, in particular.
CHAPTER XXIV.
 Plans and prospects--Dick becomes home-sick, and Henrimetaphysical--Indians attack the camp--A blow-up.
On the following day the Indians gave themselvesup to unlimited feasting, in consequence of thearrival of a large body of hunters with an immensesupply of buffalo meat. It was a regular day of rejoicing.
Upwards of six hundred buffaloes had been killedand as the supply of meat before their arrival had beenample, the camp was now overflowing with plenty.
Feasts were given by the chiefs, and the medicine menwent about the camp uttering loud cries, which weremeant to express gratitude to the Great Spirit for thebountiful supply of food. They also carried a portionof meat to the aged and infirm who were unable to huntfor themselves, and had no young men in their familycircle to hunt for them.
This arrival of the hunters was a fortunate circumstance,as it put the Indians in great good-humour, andinclined them to hold friendly intercourse with thetrappers, who for some time continued to drive a brisktrade in furs. Having no market for the disposal oftheir furs, the Indians of course had more than theyknew what to do with, and were therefore glad to exchangethose of the most beautiful and valuable kindfor a mere trifle, so that the trappers laid aside theirtraps for a time and devoted themselves to traffic.
Meanwhile Joe Blunt and his friends made preparationsfor their return journey.
"Ye see," remarked Joe to Henri and Dick, as theysat beside the fire in Pee-eye-em's lodge, and feasted ona potful of grasshopper soup, which the great chief'ssquaw had just placed before them--"ye see, my calc'lationsis as follows. Wot with trappin' beavers andhuntin', we three ha' made enough to set us up, an itlikes us, in the Mustang Valley--""Ha!" interrupted Dick, remitting for a few secondsthe use of his teeth in order to exercise histongue--ha! Joe, but it don't like me! What, give up ahunter's life and become a farmer? I should think not!""Bon!" ejaculated Henri, but whether the remarkhad reference to the grasshopper soup or the sentimentwe cannot tell.
"Well," continued Joe, commencing to devour a largebuffalo steak with a hunter's appetite, "ye'll please yourselves,lads, as to that; but as I wos sayin', we've got apowerful lot o' furs, an' a big pack o' odds and ends forthe Injuns we chance to meet with by the way, an'
powder and lead to last us a twelvemonth, besides fivegood horses to carry us an' our packs over the plains;so if it's agreeable to you, I mean to make a bee-line forthe Mustang Valley. We're pretty sure to meet withBlackfeet on the way, and if we do we'll try to makepeace between them an' the Snakes. I 'xpect it'll bepretty well on for six weeks afore we git to home, sowe'll start to-morrow.""Dat is fat vill do ver' vell," said Henri; "vill youplease donnez me one petit morsel of steak.""I'm ready for anything, Joe," cried Dick; "you areleader. Just point the way, and I'll answer for two o'
us followin' ye--eh! won't we, Crusoe?""We will," remarked the dog quietly.
"How comes it," inquired Dick, "that these Indiansdon't care for our tobacco?""They like their own better, I s'pose," answered Joe;"most all the western Injuns do. They make it o' thedried leaves o' the shumack and the inner bark o' thered-willow, chopped very small an' mixed together.
They call this stuff kinnekinnik; but they like to mixabout a fourth o' our tobacco with it, so Pee-eye-em tellsme, an' he's a good judge. The amount that red-skinnedmortal smokes is oncommon.""What are they doin' yonder?" inquired Dick, pointingto a group of men who had been feasting for sometime past in front of a tent within sight of our trio.
"Goin' to sing, I think," replied Joe.
As he spoke six young warriors were seen to worktheir bodies about in a very remarkable way, and giveutterance to still more remarkable sounds, which graduallyincreased until the singers burst out into thatterrific yell, or war-whoop, for which American savageshave long been famous. Its effect would have been appallingto unaccustomed ears. Then they allowed theirvoices to die away in soft, plaintive tones, while theiraction corresponded thereto. Suddenly the furious stylewas revived, and the men wrought themselves into acondition little short of madness, while their yells rangwildly through the camp. This was too much for ordinarycanine nature to withstand, so all the dogs in theneighbourhood joined in the horrible chorus.
Crusoe had long since learned to treat the eccentricitiesof Indians and their curs with dignified contempt.
He paid no attention to this serenade, but lay sleepingby the fire until Dick and his companions rose to takeleave of their host and return to the camp of the fur-traders.
The remainder of that night was spent inmaking preparations for setting forth on the morrow;and when, at gray dawn, Dick and Crusoe lay downto snatch a few hours' repose, the yells and howlingin the Snake camp were going on as vigorously asever.
The sun had arisen, and his beams were just tippingthe summits of the Rocky Mountains, causing the snowypeaks to glitter like flame, and the deep ravines andgorges to look sombre and mysterious by contrast, whenDick and Joe and Henri mounted their gallant steeds,and, with Crusoe gambolling before, and the two pack-horsestrotting by their side, turned their faces eastward,and bade adieu to the Indian camp.
Crusoe was in great spirits. He was perfectly wellaware that he and his companions were on their wayhome, and testified his satisfaction by bursts of scamperingover the hills and valleys. Doubtless he thought ofDick Varley's cottage, and of Dick's mild, kind-heartedmother. Undoubtedly, too, he thought of his ownmother, Fan, and felt a glow of filial affection as he didso. Of this we feel quite certain. He would have beenunworthy the title of hero if he hadn't. Perchance hethought of Grumps, but of this we are not quite so sure.
We rather think, upon the whole, that he did.
Dick, too, let his thoughts run away in the directionof home. Sweet word! Those who have never left itcannot, by any effort of imagination, realize the full importof the word "home." Dick was a bold hunter; buthe was young, and this was his first long expedition.
Oftentimes, when sleeping under the trees and gazingdreamily up through the branches at the stars, had hethought of home, until his longing heart began to yearnto return. He repelled such tender feelings, however,when they became too strong, deeming them unmanly,and sought to turn his mind to the excitements of thechase; but latterly his efforts were in vain. He becamethoroughly home-sick, and while admitting the fact tohimself, he endeavoured to conceal it from his comrades.
He thought that he was successful in this attempt. PoorDick Varley! as yet he was sadly ignorant of humannature. Henri knew it, and Joe Blunt knew it. EvenCrusoe knew that something was wrong with his master,although he could not exactly make out what it was.
But Crusoe made memoranda in the note-book of hismemory. He jotted down the peculiar phases of hismaster's new disease with the care and minute exactnessof a physician, and, we doubt not, ultimately added theknowledge of the symptoms of home-sickness to hisalready well-filled stores of erudition.
It was not till they had set out on their homewardjourney that Dick Varley's spirits revived, and it wasnot till they reached the beautiful prairies on the easternslopes of the Rocky Mountains, and galloped over thegreensward towards the Mustang Valley, that Dickventured to tell Joe Blunt what his feelings had been.
"D'ye know, Joe," he said confidentially, reining uphis gallant steed after a sharp gallop--"d'ye know I'vebin feelin' awful low for some time past.""I know it, lad," answered Joe, with a quiet smile, inwhich there was a dash of something that implied heknew more than he chose to express.
Dick felt surprised, but he continued, "I wonder whatit could have bin. I never felt so before.""'Twas home-sickness, boy," returned Joe.
"How d'ye know that?""The same way as how I know most things--byexperience an' obsarvation. I've bin home-sick myselfonce, but it was long, long agone."Dick felt much relieved at this candid confession bysuch a bronzed veteran, and, the chords of sympathyhaving been struck, he opened up his heart at once, tothe evident delight of Henri, who, among other curiouspartialities, was extremely fond of listening to and takingpart in conversations that bordered on the metaphysical,and were hard to be understood. Most conversationsthat were not connected with eating and hunting wereof this nature to Henri.
"Hom'-sik," he cried, "veech mean bein' sik of hom'!
Hah! dat is fat I am always be, ven I goes hout on deexpedition. Oui, vraiment.""I always packs up," continued Joe, paying no attentionto Henri's remark--"I always packs up an' setsoff for home when I gits home-sick. It's the best cure;an' when hunters are young like you, Dick, it's the only cure. I'veknowedfellers a'most die o' home-sickness,an' I'm told they do go under altogethersometimes.""Go onder!" exclaimed Henri; "oui, I vas all butdie myself ven I fust try to git away from hom'. If Ihave not git away, I not be here to-day."Henri's idea of home-sickness was so totally opposedto theirs that his comrades only laughed, and refrainedfrom attempting to set him right.
"The fust time I wos took bad with it wos in acountry somethin' like that," said Joe, pointing to thewide stretch of undulating prairie, dotted with clustersof trees and meandering streamlets, that lay before them.
"I had bin out about two months, an' was makin' agood thing of it, for game wos plenty, when I began tothink somehow more than usual o' home. My motherwos alive then."Joe's voice sank to a deep, solemn tone as he saidthis, and for a few minutes he rode on in silence.
"Well, it grew worse and worse. I dreamed o' homeall night an' thought of it all day, till I began to shootbad, an' my comrades wos gittin' tired o' me; so says Ito them one night, says I, 'I give out, lads; I'll maketracks for the settlement to-morrow.' They tried tolaugh me out of it at first, but it was no go, so I packedup, bid them good-day, an' sot off alone on a trip o' fivehundred miles. The very first mile o' the way back Ibegan to mend, and before two days I wos all rightagain."Joe was interrupted at this point by the suddenappearance of a solitary horseman on the brow of aneminence not half-a-mile distant. The three friendsinstantly drove their pack-horses behind a clump oftrees; but not in time to escape the vigilant eye of theRed-man, who uttered a loud shout, which brought upa band of his comrades at full gallop.
"Remember, Henri," cried Joe Blunt, "our errand isone of peace."The caution was needed, for in the confusion of themoment Henri was making preparation to sell his lifeas dearly as possible. Before another word could beuttered, they were surrounded by a troop of abouttwenty yelling Blackfeet Indians. They were, fortunately,not a war party, and, still more fortunately, theywere peaceably disposed, and listened to the preliminaryaddress of Joe Blunt with exemplary patience; afterwhich the two parties encamped on the spot, the council fire waslighted,and every preparation made for a long palaver.
We will not trouble the reader with the details ofwhat was said on this occasion. The party of Indianswas a small one, and no chief of any importance wasattached to it. Suffice it to say that the pacific overturesmade by Joe were well received, the trifling giftsmade thereafter were still better received, and theyseparated with mutual expressions of good-will.
Several other bands which were afterwards met withwere equally friendly, and only one war party was seen.
Joe's quick eye observed it in time to enable them toretire unseen behind the shelter of some trees, wherethey remained until the Indian warriors were out ofsight.
The next party they met with, however, were moredifficult to manage, and, unfortunately, blood was shedon both sides before our travellers escaped.
It was at the close of a beautiful day that a warparty of Blackfeet were seen riding along a ridge on thehorizon. It chanced that the prairie at this place wasalmost destitute of trees or shrubs large enough to concealthe horses. By dashing down the grassy waveinto the hollow between the two undulations, and dismounting,Joe hoped to elude the savages, so he gavethe word; but at the same moment a shout from theIndians told that they were discovered.
"Look sharp, lads! throw down the packs on thehighest point of the ridge," cried Joe, undoing the lashings,seizing one of the bales of goods, and hurrying tothe top of the undulation with it; "we must keep themat arm's-length, boys--be alive! War parties are not tobe trusted."Dick and Henri seconded Joe's efforts so ably thatin the course of two minutes the horses were unloaded,the packs piled in the form of a wall in front of abroken piece of ground, the horses picketed close besidethem, and our three travellers peeping over theedge, with their rifles cocked, while the savages--aboutthirty in number--came sweeping down towards them.
"I'll try to git them to palaver," said Joe Blunt;"but keep yer eye on 'em, Dick, an' if they behave ill,shoot the horse o' the leadin' chief. I'll throw up myleft hand, as a signal. Mind, lad, don't hit human fleshtill my second signal is given, and see that Henri don'tdraw till I git back to ye."So saying, Joe sprang lightly over the slight parapetof their little fortress, and ran swiftly out, unarmed,towards the Indians. In a few seconds he was closeup with them, and in another moment was surrounded.
At first the savages brandished their spears and roderound the solitary man, yelling like fiends, as if theywished to intimidate him; but as Joe stood like astatue, with his arms crossed, and a grave expression ofcontempt on his countenance, they quickly desisted, and,drawing near, asked him where he came from, and whathe was doing there.
Joe's story was soon told; but instead of replying,they began to shout vociferously, and evidently meantmischief.
"If the Blackfeet are afraid to speak to the Pale-face,he will go back to his braves," said Joe, passing suddenlybetween two of the warriors and taking a fewsteps towards the camp.
Instantly every bow was bent, and it seemed as ifour bold hunter were about to be pierced by a score ofarrows, when he turned round andcried,--"The Blackfeet must not advance a single step. Thefirst that moves his horse shall die. The second thatmoves himself shall die."To this the Blackfeet chief replied scornfully, "ThePale-face talks with a big mouth. We do not believehis words. The Snakes are liars; we will make nopeace with them."While he was yet speaking, Joe threw up his hand;there was a loud report, and the noble horse of thesavage chief lay struggling in death agony on the ground.
The use of the rifle, as we have before hinted, waslittle known at this period among the Indians of thefar west, and many had never heard the dreaded reportbefore, although all were aware, from hearsay, of itsfatal power. The fall of the chief's horse, therefore,quite paralyzed them for a few moments, and they hadnot recovered from their surprise when a second reportwas heard, a bullet whistled past, and a second horsefell. At the same moment there was a loud explosionin the camp of the Pale-faces, a white cloud envelopedit, and from the midst of this a loud shriek was heard,as Dick, Henri, and Crusoe bounded over the packswith frantic gestures.
At this the gaping savages wheeled their steedsround, the dismounted horsemen sprang on behind twoof their comrades, and the whole band dashed awayover the plains as if they were chased by evil spirits.
Meanwhile Joe hastened towards his comrades in astate of great anxiety, for he knew at once that one ofthe powder-horns must have been accidentally blown up.
"No damage done, boys, I hope?" he cried on comingup.
"Damage!" cried Henri, holding his hands tightover his face. "Oh! oui, great damage--moche damage;me two eyes be blowed out of dere holes.""Not quite so bad as that, I hope," said Dick, whowas very slightly singed, and forgot his own hurts inanxiety about his comrade. "Let me see.""My eye!" exclaimed Joe Blunt, while a broad grinoverspread his countenance, "ye've not improved yerlooks, Henri."This was true. The worthy hunter's hair was singedto such an extent that his entire countenance presentedthe appearance of a universal frizzle. Fortunately theskin, although much blackened, was quite uninjured--afact which, when he ascertained it beyond a doubt,afforded so much satisfaction to Henri that he caperedabout shouting with delight, as if some piece of goodfortune had befallen him.
The accident had happened in consequence of Henrihaving omitted to replace the stopper of his powder-horn,and when, in his anxiety for Joe, he fired at randomamongst the Indians, despite Dick's entreaties towait, a spark communicated with the powder-horn andblew him up. Dick and Crusoe were only a littlesinged, but the former was not disposed to quarrel withan accident which had sent their enemies so promptlyto the right-about.
This band followed them for some nights, in the hopeof being able to steal their horses while they slept; butthey were not brave enough to venture a second timewithin range of the death-dealing rifle.
CHAPTER XXV.
 Dangers of the prairie--Our travellers attacked by Indians,and delivered in a remarkable manner.
There are periods in the life of almost all menA when misfortunes seem to crowd upon them inrapid succession, when they escape from one dangeronly to encounter another, and when, to use a well-knownexpression, they succeed in leaping out of thefrying-pan at the expense of plunging into the fire.
So was it with our three friends upon this occasion.
They were scarcely rid of the Blackfeet, who found themtoo watchful to be caught napping, when, about daybreakone morning, they encountered a roving band ofCamanchee Indians, who wore such a warlike aspectthat Joe deemed it prudent to avoid them if possible.
"They don't see us yit, I guess," said Joe, as he andhis companions drove the horses into a hollow betweenthe grassy waves of the prairie, "an' if we only can escape theirsharpeyes till we're in yonder clump o' willows, we're safe enough.""But why don't you ride up to them, Joe," inquiredDick, "and make peace between them and the Pale-faces,as you ha' done with other bands?""Because it's o' no use to risk our scalps for thechance o' makin' peace wi' a rovin' war party. Keepyer head down, Henri! If they git only a sight o' thetop o' yer cap, they'll be down on us like a breeze o'
wind.""Ha! let dem come!" said Henri.
"They'll come without askin' yer leave," remarkedJoe, dryly.
Notwithstanding his defiant expression, Henri hadsufficient prudence to induce him to bend his head andshoulders, and in a few minutes they reached theshelter of the willows unseen by the savages. At leastso thought Henri, Joe was not quite sure about it, andDick hoped for the best.
In the course of half-an-hour the last of the Camancheeswas seen to hover for a second on the horizon,like a speck of black against the sky, and then to disappear.
Immediately the three hunters vaulted on their steedsand resumed their journey; but before that eveningclosed they had sad evidence of the savage nature ofthe band from which they had escaped. On passingthe brow of a slight eminence, Dick, who rode first,observed that Crusoe stopped and snuffed the breeze inan anxious, inquiring manner.
"What is't, pup?" said Dick, drawing up, for heknew that his faithful dog never gave a false alarm.
Crusoe replied by a short, uncertain bark, and thenbounding forward, disappeared behind a little woodedknoll. In another moment a long, dismal howl floatedover the plains. There was a mystery about the dog'sconduct which, coupled with his melancholy cry, struckthe travellers with a superstitious feeling of dread, asthey sat looking at each other in surprise.
"Come, let's clear it up," cried Joe Blunt, shakingthe reins of his steed, and galloping forward. A fewstrides brought them to the other side of the knoll,where, scattered upon the torn and bloody turf, theydiscovered the scalped and mangled remains of abouttwenty or thirty human beings. Their skulls had beencleft by the tomahawk and their breasts pierced by thescalping-knife, and from the position in which many ofthem lay it was evident that they had been slain whileasleep.
Joe's brow flushed and his lips became tightly compressedas he muttered between his set teeth, "Theirskins are white."A short examination sufficed to show that the menwho had thus been barbarously murdered while theyslept had been a band of trappers or hunters, but whattheir errand had been, or whence they came, they couldnot discover.
Everything of value had been carried off, and all thescalps had been taken. Most of the bodies, althoughmuch mutilated, lay in a posture that led our huntersto believe they had been killed while asleep; but one ortwo were cut almost to pieces, and from the blood-bespatteredand trampled sward around, it seemed as ifthey had struggled long and fiercely for life. Whetheror not any of the savages had been slain, it was impossibleto tell, for if such had been the case, theircomrades, doubtless, had carried away their bodies.
That they had been slaughtered by the party of Camancheeswho had been seen at daybreak was quite clear toJoe; but his burning desire to revenge the death of thewhite men had to be stifled, as his party was so small.
Long afterwards it was discovered that this was aband of trappers who, like those mentioned at the beginningof this volume, had set out to avenge the deathof a comrade; but God, who has retained the right ofvengeance in his own hand, saw fit to frustrate theirpurpose, by giving them into the hands of the savageswhom they had set forth to slay.
As it was impossible to bury so many bodies, thetravellers resumed their journey, and left them to bleachthere in the wilderness; but they rode the whole ofthat day almost without uttering a word.
Meanwhile the Camanchees, who had observed thetrio, and had ridden away at first for the purpose ofdeceiving them into the belief that they had passedunobserved, doubled on their track, and took a longsweep in order to keep out of sight until they couldapproach under the shelter of a belt of woodlandtowards which the travellers now approached.
The Indians adopted this course instead of the easiermethod of simply pursuing so weak a party, becausethe plains at this part were bordered by a long stretchof forest into which the hunters could have plunged,and rendered pursuit more difficult, if not almost useless.
The detour thus taken was so extensive that the shadesof evening were beginning to descend before they couldput their plan into execution. The forest lay about amile to the right of our hunters, like some dark mainland, of whichtheprairie was the sea and the scatteredclumps of wood the islands.
"There's no lack o' game here," said Dick Varley,pointing to a herd of buffaloes which rose at theirapproach and fled away towards the wood.
"I think we'll ha' thunder soon," remarked Joe. "Inever feel it onnatteral hot like this without lookin' outfor a plump.""Ha! den ve better look hout for one goot tree toget b'low," suggested Henri. "Voilà!" he added, pointingwith his finger towards the plain; "dere am a lotof wild hosses."A troop of about thirty wild horses appeared, as hespoke, on the brow of a ridge, and advanced slowlytowards them.
"Hist!" exclaimed Joe, reining up; "hold on, lads.
Wild horses! my rifle to a pop-gun there's wilder menon t'other side o' them.""What mean you, Joe?" inquired Dick, riding closeup.
"D'ye see the little lumps on the shoulder o' eachhorse?" said Joe. "Them's Injun's feet; an' if we don'twant to lose our scalps we'd better make for the forest."Joe proved himself to be in earnest by wheelinground and making straight for the thick wood as fast ashis horse could run. The others followed, driving thepack-horses before them.
The effect of this sudden movement on the so-called"wild horses" was very remarkable, and to one unacquaintedwith the habits of the Camanchee Indiansmust have appeared almost supernatural. In the twinklingof an eye every steed had a rider on its back, andbefore the hunters had taken five strides in the directionof the forest, the whole band were in hot pursuit,yelling like furies.
The manner in which these Indians accomplish thisfeat is very singular, and implies great activity andstrength of muscle on the part of the savages.
The Camanchees are low in stature, and usually arerather corpulent. In their movements on foot they areheavy and ungraceful, and they are, on the whole, aslovenly and unattractive race of men. But the instantthey mount their horses they seem to be entirelychanged, and surprise the spectator with the ease andelegance of their movements. Their great and distinctivepeculiarity as horsemen is the power they haveacquired of throwing themselves suddenly on either sideof their horse's body, and clinging on in such a waythat no part of them is visible from the other sidesave the foot by which they cling. In this mannerthey approach their enemies at full gallop, and, withoutrising again to the saddle, discharge their arrows atthem over the horses' backs, or even under theirnecks.
This apparently magical feat is accomplished bymeans of a halter of horse-hair, which is passed roundunder the neck of the horse and both ends braided intothe mane, on the withers, thus forming a loop whichhangs under the neck and against the breast. Thisbeing caught by the hand, makes a sling, into which theelbow falls, taking the weight of the body on the middleof the upper arm. Into this loop the rider drops suddenlyand fearlessly, leaving his heel to hang over thehorse's back to steady him, and also to restore him to hisseat when desired.
By this stratagem the Indians had approached on thepresent occasion almost within rifle range before theywere discovered, and it required the utmost speed of thehunters' horses to enable them to avoid being overtaken.
One of the Indians, who was better mountedthan his fellows, gained on the fugitives so much thathe came within arrow range, but reserved his shaft untilthey were close on the margin of the wood, when, beingalmost alongside of Henri, he fitted an arrow to hisbow. Henri's eye was upon him, however. Letting gothe line of the pack-horse which he was leading, hethrew forward his rifle; but at the same moment thesavage disappeared behind his horse, and an arrowwhizzed past the hunter's ear.
Henri fired at the horse, which dropped instantly,hurling the astonished Camanchee upon the ground, wherehe lay for some time insensible. In a few secondspursued and pursuers entered the wood, where both hadto advance with caution, in order to avoid being sweptoff by the overhanging branches of the trees.
Meanwhile the sultry heat of which Joe had formerlyspoken increased considerably, and a rumbling noise,as if of distant thunder, was heard; but the flyinghunters paid no attention to it, for the led horses gavethem so much trouble, and retarded their flight so much,that the Indians were gradually and visibly gaining onthem.
"We'll ha' to let the packs go," said Joe, somewhatbitterly, as he looked over his shoulder. "Our scalps'llpay for't, if we don't."Henri uttered a peculiar and significant hiss betweenhis teeth, as he said, "P'r'aps ve better stopand fight!"Dick said nothing, being resolved to do exactly whatJoe Blunt bid him; and Crusoe, for reasons best knownto himself, also said nothing, but bounded along besidehis master's horse, casting an occasional glance upwardsto catch any signal that might be given.
They had passed over a considerable space of ground,and were forcing their way at the imminent hazard oftheir necks through a densely-clothed part of the wood,when the sound above referred to increased, attractingthe attention of both parties. In a few seconds theair was filled with a steady and continuous rumblingsound, like the noise of a distant cataract. Pursuersand fugitives drew rein instinctively, and came to adead stand; while the rumbling increased to a roar, andevidently approached them rapidly, though as yet nothingto cause it could be seen, except that there was a dense,dark cloud overspreading the sky to the southward.
The air was oppressively still and hot.
"What can it be?" inquired Dick, looking at Joe, whowas gazing with an expression of wonder, not unmixedwith concern, at the southern sky.
"Dun'no', boy. I've bin more in the woods than inthe clearin' in my day, but I niver heerd the likes o'
that.""It am like t'ondre," said Henri; "mais it nevair dostop."This was true. The sound was similar to continuous,uninterrupted thunder. On it came with a magnificentroar that shook the very earth, and revealeditself at last in the shape of a mighty whirlwind. Ina moment the distant woods bent before it, and fell likegrass before the scythe. It was a whirling hurricane,accompanied by a deluge of rain such as none of theparty had ever before witnessed. Steadily, fiercely,irresistibly it bore down upon them, while the crash offalling, snapping, and uprooting trees mingled with thedire artillery of that sweeping storm like the musketryon a battle-field.
"Follow me, lads!" shouted Joe, turning his horseand dashing at full speed towards a rocky eminencethat offered shelter. But shelter was not needed. Thestorm was clearly defined. Its limits were as distinctlymarked by its Creator as if it had been a living intelligencesent forth to put a belt of desolation roundthe world; and, although the edge of devastation wasnot five hundred yards from the rock behind which thehunters were stationed, only a few drops of ice-coldrain fell upon them.
It passed directly between the Camanchee Indiansand their intended victims, placing between them abarrier which it would have taken days to cut through.
The storm blew for an hour, then it travelled onward inits might, and was lost in the distance. Whence itcame and whither it went none could tell, but far asthe eye could see on either hand an avenue a quarterof a mile wide was cut through the forest. It hadlevelled everything with the dust; the very grass wasbeaten flat; the trees were torn, shivered, snappedacross, and crushed; and the earth itself in manyplaces was ploughed up and furrowed with deep scars.
The chaos was indescribable, and it is probable thatcenturies will not quite obliterate the work of thatsingle hour.
While it lasted, Joe and his comrades remainedspeechless and awe-stricken. When it passed, no Indianswere to be seen. So our hunters remounted theirsteeds, and, with feelings of gratitude to God for havingdelivered them alike from savage foes and from the destructivepower of the whirlwind, resumed their journeytowards the Mustang Valley.
CHAPTER XXVI.
 Anxious fears followed by a joyful surprise--Safe home at last, andhappy hearts.
One fine afternoon, a few weeks after the storm ofwhich we have given an account in the lastchapter, old Mrs. Varley was seated beside her ownchimney corner in the little cottage by the lake, gazingat the glowing logs with the earnest expression of onewhose thoughts were far away. Her kind face waspaler than usual, and her hands rested idly on her knee,grasping the knitting-wires to which was attached a half-finishedstocking.
On a stool near to her sat young Marston, the lad towhom, on the day of the shooting-match, Dick Varleyhad given his old rifle. The boy had an anxious lookabout him, as he lifted his eyes from time to time to thewidow's face.
"Did ye say, my boy, that they were all killed?"inquired Mrs. Varley, awaking from her reverie witha deep sigh.
"Every one," replied Marston. "Jim Scraggs, whobrought the news, said they wos all lying dead withtheir scalps off. They wos a party o' white men."Mrs. Varley sighed again, and her face assumed anexpression of anxious pain as she thought of her sonDick being exposed to a similar fate. Mrs. Varley wasnot given to nervous fears, but as she listened to theboy's recital of the slaughter of a party of white men,news of which had just reached the valley, her heartsank, and she prayed inwardly to Him who is the husbandof the widow that her dear one might be protectedfrom the ruthless hand of the savage.
After a short pause, during which young Marstonfidgeted about and looked concerned, as if he had somethingto say which he would fain leave unsaid, Mrs.
Varley continued,--"Was it far off where the bloody deed was done?""Yes; three weeks off, I believe. And Jim Scraggssaid that he found a knife that looked like the one wotbelonged to--to--" the lad hesitated.
"To whom, my boy? Why don't ye go on?""To your son Dick."The widow's hands dropped by her side, and shewould have fallen had not Marston caught her.
"O mother dear, don't take on like that!" he cried,smoothing down the widow's hair as her head rested onhis breast.
For some time Mrs. Varley suffered the boy to fondleher in silence, while her breast laboured with anxiousdread.
"Tell me all," she said at last, recovering a little.
"Did Jim see--Dick?""No," answered the boy. "He looked at all thebodies, but did not find his; so he sent me over here totell ye that p'r'aps he's escaped."Mrs. Varley breathed more freely, and earnestlythanked God; but her fears soon returned when shethought of his being a prisoner, and recalled the talesof terrible cruelty often related of the savages.
While she was still engaged in closely questioningthe lad, Jim Scraggs himself entered the cottage, andendeavoured in a gruff sort of way to reassure the widow.
"Ye see, mistress," he said, "Dick is an oncommontough customer, an' if he could only git fifty yards' start,there's not an Injun in the West as could git hold o' himagin; so don't be takin' on.""But what if he's been taken prisoner?" said thewidow.
"Ay, that's jest wot I've comed about. Ye see it'snot onlikely he's bin took; so about thirty o' the ladso' the valley are ready jest now to start away and givethe red riptiles chase, an' I come to tell ye; so keep upheart, mistress."With this parting word of comfort, Jim withdrew,and Marston soon followed, leaving the widow to weepand pray in solitude.
Meanwhile an animated scene was going on near theblock-house. Here thirty of the young hunters of theMustang Valley were assembled, actively engaged insupplying themselves with powder and lead, and tighteningtheir girths, preparatory to setting out in pursuitof the Indians who had murdered the white men; whilehundreds of boys and girls, and not a few matrons,crowded round and listened to the conversation, and tothe deep threats of vengeance that were uttered everand anon by the younger men.
Major Hope, too, was among them. The worthymajor, unable to restrain his roving propensities, determinedto revisit the Mustang Valley, and had arrivedonly two days before.
Backwoodsmen's preparations are usually of the shortestand simplest. In a few minutes the cavalcade wasready, and away they went towards the prairies, withthe bold major at their head. But their journey wasdestined to come to an abrupt and unexpected close.
A couple of hours' gallop brought them to the edge ofone of those open plains which sometimes break up thewoodland near the verge of the great prairies. Itstretched out like a green lake towards the horizon, onwhich, just as the band of horsemen reached it, the sunwas descending in a blaze of glory.
With a shout of enthusiasm, several of the youngermembers of the party sprang forward into the plainat a gallop; but the shout was mingled with one of adifferent tone from the older men.
"Hist!--hallo!--hold on, ye catamounts! There'sInjuns ahead!"The whole band came to a sudden halt at this cry,and watched eagerly, and for some time in silence, themotions of a small party of horsemen who were seen inthe far distance, like black specks on the golden sky.
"They come this way, I think," said Major Hope,after gazing steadfastly at them for some minutes.
Several of the old hands signified their assent to thissuggestion by a grunt, although to unaccustomed eyesthe objects in question looked more like crows thanhorsemen, and their motion was for some time scarcelyperceptible.
"I sees pack-horses among them," cried young Marstonin an excited tone; "an' there's three riders; butthere's som'thin' else, only wot it be I can't tell.""Ye've sharp eyes, younker," remarked one of themen, "an' I do b'lieve ye're right."Presently the horsemen approached, and soon therewas a brisk fire of guessing as to who they could be.
It was evident that the strangers observed the cavalcadeof white men, and regarded them as friends, for theydid not check the headlong speed at which they approached.
In a few minutes they were clearly made outto be a party of three horsemen driving pack-horsesbefore them, and somethin' which some of the huntersguessed was a buffalo calf.
Young Marston guessed too, but his guess was different.
Moreover, it was uttered with a yell that wouldhave done credit to the fiercest of all the savages.
"Crusoe!" he shouted, while at the same moment hebrought his whip heavily down on the flank of his littlehorse, and sprang over the prairie like an arrow.
One of the approaching horsemen was far ahead ofhis comrades, and seemed as if encircled with the flyingand voluminous mane of his magnificent horse.
"Ha! ho!" gasped Marston in a low tone to himself,as he flew along. "Crusoe! I'd know ye, dog,among a thousand! A buffalo calf! Ha! git on withye!"This last part of the remark was addressed to hishorse, and was followed by a whack that increased thepace considerably.
The space between two such riders was soon devoured.
"Hallo! Dick--Dick Varley!""Eh! why, Marston, my boy!"The friends reined up so suddenly that one mighthave fancied they had met like the knights of old in theshock of mortal conflict.
"Is't yerself, Dick Varley?"Dick held out his hand, and his eyes glistened, but hecould not find words.
Marston seized it, and pushing his horse close up,vaulted nimbly off and alighted on Charlie's back behindhis friend.
"Off ye go, Dick! I'll take ye to yer mother."Without reply, Dick shook the reins, and in anotherminute was in the midst of the hunters.
To the numberless questions that were put to him heonly waited to shout aloud, "We're all safe! They'lltell ye all about it," he added, pointing to his comrades,who were now close at hand; and then, dashing onward,made straight for home, with little Marston clinging tohis waist like a monkey.
Charlie was fresh, and so was Crusoe, so you may besure it was not long before they all drew up oppositethe door of the widow's cottage. Before Dick coulddismount, Marston had slipped off, and was already inthe kitchen.
"Here's Dick, mother!"The boy was an orphan, and loved the widow so muchthat he had come at last to call her mother.
Before another word could be uttered, Dick Varleywas in the room. Marston immediately stepped out andsoftly shut the door. Reader, we shall not open it!
Having shut the door, as we have said, Marston randown to the edge of the lake and yelled with delight--usuallyterminating each paroxysm with the Indian war-whoop,with which he was well acquainted. Then hedanced, and then he sat down on a rock, and becamesuddenly aware that there were other hearts there, closebeside him, as glad as his own. Another mother of theMustang Valley was rejoicing over a long-lost son.
Crusoe and his mother Fan were scampering roundeach other in a manner that evinced powerfully thestrength of their mutual affection.
Talk of holding converse! Every hair on Crusoe'sbody, every motion of his limbs, was eloquent withsilent language. He gazed into his mother's mild eyesas if he would read her inmost soul (supposing that shehad one). He turned his head to every possible angle,and cocked his ears to every conceivable elevation, andrubbed his nose against Fan's, and barked softly, inevery imaginable degree of modulation, and varied theseproceedings by bounding away at full speed over therocks of the beach, and in among the bushes and outagain, but always circling round and round Fan, andkeeping her in view!
It was a sight worth seeing, and young Marston satdown on a rock, deliberately and enthusiastically, togloat over it. But perhaps the most remarkable partof it has not yet been referred to. There was yetanother heart there that was glad--exceeding glad thatday. It was a little one too, but it was big for thebody that held it. Grumps was there, and all thatGrumps did was to sit on his haunches and stare at Fanand Crusoe, and wag his tail as well as he could in soawkward a position! Grumps was evidently bewilderedwith delight, and had lost nearly all power to expressit. Crusoe's conduct towards him, too, was not calculatedto clear his faculties. Every time he chanced to passnear Grumps in his elephantine gambols, he gave hima passing touch with his nose, which always knockedhim head over heels; whereat Grumps invariably gotup quickly and wagged his tail with additional energy.
Before the feelings of those canine friends were calmed,they were all three ruffled into a state of comparativeexhaustion.
Then young Marston called Crusoe to him, andCrusoe, obedient to the voice of friendship, went.
"Are you happy, my dog?""You're a stupid fellow to ask such a question; howeverit's an amiable one. Yes, I am.""What do you want, ye small bundle o' hair?"This was addressed to Grumps, who came forwardinnocently, and sat down to listen to the conversation.
On being thus sternly questioned the little dog putdown its ears flat, and hung its head, looking up at thesame time with a deprecatory look, as if to say, "Ohdear, I beg pardon. I--I only want to sit near Crusoe,please; but if you wish it, I'll go away, sad and lonely,with my tail very much between my legs; indeed I will,only say the word, but--but I'd rather stay if I might.""Poor bundle!" said Marston, patting its head, "youcan stay then. Hooray! Crusoe, are you happy, Isay? Does your heart bound in you like a cannon ballthat wants to find its way out, and can't, eh?"Crusoe put his snout against Marston's cheek, and inthe excess of his joy the lad threw his arms round thedog's neck and hugged it vigorously--a piece of impulsiveaffection which that noble animal bore with characteristicmeekness, and which Grumps regarded with idioticsatisfaction.
CHAPTER XXVII.
 Rejoicings--The feast at the block-house--Grumps andCrusoe come out strong--The closing scene.
The day of Dick's arrival with his companions wasa great day in the annals of the Mustang Valley,and Major Hope resolved to celebrate it by an impromptufestival at the old block-house; for many hearts in thevalley had been made glad that day, and he knew fullwell that, under such circumstances, some safety-valvemust be devised for the escape of overflowing excitement.
A messenger was sent round to invite the populationto assemble without delay in front of the block-house.
With backwoods-like celerity the summons was obeyed;men, women, and children hurried towards the centralpoint, wondering, yet more than half suspecting, whatwas the major's object in calling them together.
They were not long in doubt. The first sight thatpresented itself, as they came trooping up the slope infront of the log-hut, was an ox roasting whole beforea gigantic bonfire. Tables were being extemporized onthe broad level plot in front of the gate. Other firesthere were, of smaller dimensions, on which sundrysteaming pots were placed, and various joints of wildhorse, bear, and venison roasted, and sent forth a savouryodour as well as a pleasant hissing noise. Theinhabitants of the block-house were self-taught brewers,and the result of their recent labours now stood displayedin a row of goodly casks of beer--the onlybeverage with which the dwellers in these far-off regionswere wont to regale themselves.
The whole scene, as the cooks moved actively aboutupon the lawn, and children romped round the fires,and settlers came flocking through the forests, mighthave recalled the revelry of merry England in the oldentime, though the costumes of the far west were perhapssomewhat different from those of old England.
No one of all the band assembled there on that dayof rejoicing required to ask what it was all about. Hadany one been in doubt for a moment, a glance at thecentre of the crowd assembled round the gate of thewestern fortress would have quickly enlightened him.
For there stood Dick Varley, and his mild-looking mother,and his loving dog Crusoe. There, too, stood Joe Blunt,like a bronzed warrior returned from the fight, turningfrom one to another as question poured in upon questionalmost too rapidly to permit of a reply. There, too,stood Henri, making enthusiastic speeches to whoeverchose to listen to him--now glaring at the crowd withclenched fists and growling voice, as he told of how Joeand he had been tied hand and foot, and lashed to poles,and buried in leaves, and threatened with a slow deathby torture; at other times bursting into a hilarious laughas he held forth on the predicament of Mahtawa, whenthat wily chief was treed by Crusoe in the prairie.
Young Marston was there, too, hanging about Dick,whom he loved as a brother and regarded as a perfecthero. Grumps, too, was there, and Fan. Do youthink, reader, that Grumps looked at any one butCrusoe? If you do, you are mistaken. Grumps onthat day became a regular, an incorrigible, utter, andperfect nuisance to everybody--not excepting himself,poor beast! Grumps was a dog of one idea, and thatidea was Crusoe. Out of that great idea there grew onelittle secondary idea, and that idea was that the onlyjoy on earth worth mentioning was to sit on his haunches,exactly six inches from Crusoe's nose, and gaze steadfastlyinto his face. Wherever Crusoe went Grumps went.
If Crusoe stopped, Grumps was down before him in aninstant. If Crusoe bounded away, which in the exuberanceof his spirits he often did, Grumps was after himlike a bundle of mad hair. He was in everybody'sway, in Crusoe's way, and being, so to speak, "besidehimself," was also in his own way. If people trod uponhim accidentally, which they often did, Grumps uttereda solitary heart-rending yell proportioned in intensityto the excruciating nature of the torture he endured,then instantly resumed his position and his fascinatedstare. Crusoe generally held his head up, and gazedover his little friend at what was going on around him;but if for a moment he permitted his eye to rest on thecountenance of Grumps, that creature's tail becamesuddenly imbued with an amount of wriggling vitalitythat seemed to threaten its separation from the body.
It was really quite interesting to watch this unblushing,and disinterested, and utterly reckless display ofaffection on the part of Grumps, and the amiable wayin which Crusoe put up with it. We say put up withit advisedly, because it must have been a very greatinconvenience to him, seeing that if he attempted tomove, his satellite moved in front of him, so that hisonly way of escaping temporarily was by jumping overGrumps's head.
Grumps was everywhere all day. Nobody, almost,escaped trampling on part of him. He tumbled overeverything, into everything, and against everything.
He knocked himself, singed himself, and scalded himself,and in fact forgot himself altogether; and when,late that night, Crusoe went with Dick into his mother'scottage, and the door was shut, Grumps stretched hisruffled, battered, ill-used, and dishevelled little bodydown on the door-step, thrust his nose against theopening below the door, and lay in humble contentmentall night, for he knew that Crusoe was there.
Of course such an occasion could not pass withouta shooting-match. Rifles were brought out after thefeast was over, just before the sun went down into itsbed on the western prairies, and "the nail" was soonsurrounded by bullets, tipped by Joe Blunt and JimScraggs, and of course driven home by Dick Varley,whose "silver rifle" had now become in its owner's handa never-failing weapon. Races, too, were started, andhere again Dick stood pre-eminent; and when nightspread her dark mantle over the scene, the two bestfiddlers in the settlement were placed on empty beer-casks,and some danced by the light of the monster fires,while others listened to Joe Blunt as he recounted theiradventures on the prairies and among the Rocky Mountains.
There were sweethearts, and wives, and lovers at thefeast, but we question if any heart there was so full oflove, and admiration, and gratitude, as that of theWidow Varley as she watched her son Dick throughoutthat merry evening.
      *       *       *       *       *Years rolled by, and the Mustang Valley prospered.
Missionaries went there, and a little church was built,and to the blessings of a fertile land were added thefar greater blessings of Christian light and knowledge.
One sad blow fell on the Widow Varley's heart. Heronly brother, Daniel Hood, was murdered by the Indians.
Deeply and long she mourned, and it required all Dick'sefforts and those of the pastor of the settlement tocomfort her. But from the first the widow's heart wassustained by the loving Hand that dealt the blow, andwhen time blunted the keen edge of her feelings herface became as sweet and mild, though not so lightsome,as before.
Joe Blunt and Henri became leading men in thecouncils of the Mustang Valley; but Dick Varley preferredthe woods, although, as long as his mother lived,he hovered round her cottage--going off sometimes fora day, sometimes for a week, but never longer. Afterher head was laid in the dust, Dick took altogether tothe woods, with Crusoe and Charlie, the wild horse, ashis only companions, and his mother's Bible in thebreast of his hunting-shirt. And soon Dick, the boldhunter, and his dog Crusoe became renowned in thefrontier settlements from the banks of the YellowstoneRiver to the Gulf of Mexico.
Many a grizzly bear did the famous "silver rifle" laylow, and many a wild, exciting chase and adventure didDick go through; but during his occasional visits to theMustang Valley he was wont to say to Joe Blunt andHenri--with whom he always sojourned--that "nothin'
he ever felt or saw came up to his first grand dash overthe western prairies into the heart of the Rocky Mountains."And in saying this, with enthusiasm in his eyeand voice, Dick invariably appealed to, and received aready affirmative glance from, his early companion andhis faithful loving friend, the dog Crusoe.
 


THE END.