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 dreary night described in thelast chapter was warm and magnificent. The sun rose in a blaze ofsplendour, and filled the atmosphere with steam from the moist earth.
The unfortunates in the wet camp were not slow to avail themselves ofhis cheering rays. They hung up everything on the bushes to dry, andby dint of extreme patience and cutting out the comparatively dryhearts of several pieces of wood, they lighted a fire and boiled somerain-water, which was soon converted into soup. This, and the exercisenecessary for the performance of these several duties, warmed andpartially dried them; so that when they once more mounted their steedsand rode away, they were in a state of comparative comfort and inexcellent spirits. The only annoyance was the clouds of mosquitoes andlarge flies that assailed men and horses whenever they checked theirspeed.
"I tell ye wot it is," said Joe Blunt, one fine morning about a weekafter they had begun to cross the prairie, "it's my 'pinion that we'llcome on buffaloes soon. Them tracks are fresh, an' yonder's one o'their wallers that's bin used not long agone."
"I'll go have a look at it," cried Dick, trotting away as he spoke.
Everything in these vast prairies was new to Dick Varley, and he waskept in a constant state of excitement during the first week or twoof his journey. It is true he was quite familiar with the names andhabits of all the animals that dwelt there; for many a time and ofthad he listened to the "yarns" of the hunters and trappers of theMustang Valley, when they returned laden with rich furs from theirperiodical hunting expeditions. But this knowledge of his only servedto whet his curiosity and his desire to _see_ the denizens of theprairies with his own eyes; and now that his wish was accomplished, itgreatly increased the pleasures of his journey.
Dick had just reached the "wallow" referred to by Joe Blunt, and hadreined up his steed to observe it leisurely, when a faint hissingsound reached his ear. Looking quickly back, he observed his twocompanions crouching on the necks of their horses, and slowlydescending into a hollow of the prairie in front of them, as if theywished to bring the rising ground between them and some object inadvance. Dick instantly followed their example, and was soon at theirheels.
"Ye needn't look at the waller," whispered Joe, "for a' tother side o'the ridge there's a bull _wallerin_'."
"Ye don't mean it!" exclaimed Dick, as they all dismounted andpicketed their horses to the plain. "Oui," said Henri, tumbling offhis horse, while a broad grin overspread his good-natured countenance,"it is one fact! One buffalo bull be wollerin' like a enormerous hog.Also, dere be t'ousands o' buffaloes farder on."
"Can ye trust yer dog keepin' back?" inquired Joe, with a dubiousglance at Crusoe.
"Trust him! Ay, I wish I was as sure o' myself."
"Look to yer primin', then, an' we'll have tongues and marrow bonesfor supper to-night, I'se warrant. Hist! down on yer knees and gosoftly. We might ha' run them down on horseback, but it's bad to windyer beasts on a trip like this, if ye can help it; an' it's about aseasy to stalk them. Leastways, we'll try. Lift yer head slowly, Dick,an' don't show more nor the half o't above the ridge."
Dick elevated his head as directed, and the scene that met his viewwas indeed well calculated to send an electric shock to the heart ofan ardent sportsman. The vast plain beyond was absolutely blackenedwith countless herds of buffaloes, which were browsing on the richgrass. They were still so far distant that their bellowing, and thetrampling of their myriad hoofs, only reached the hunters like a faintmurmur on the breeze. In the immediate foreground, however, there wasa group of about half-a-dozen buffalo cows feeding quietly, and in themidst of them an enormous old bull was enjoying himself in his wallow.The animals, towards which our hunters now crept with murderousintent, are the fiercest and the most ponderous of the ruminatinginhabitants of the western wilderness. The name of _buffalo_, however,is not correct. The animal is the _bison_, and bears no resemblancewhatever 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 the North Americanprairies, from the Hudson Bay Territories, north of Canada, to theshores of the Gulf of Mexico.
The advance of white men to the west has driven them to the prairiesbetween the Missouri and the Rocky Mountains, and has somewhatdiminished their numbers; but even thus diminished, they are stillinnumerable in the more distant plains. Their colour is dark brown,but it varies a good deal with the seasons. The hair or fur, from itsgreat length in winter and spring and exposure to the weather, turnsquite light; but when the winter coat is shed off, the new growth isa beautiful dark brown, almost approaching to jet-black. In form thebuffalo somewhat resembles the ox, but its head and shoulders are muchlarger, and are covered with a profusion of long shaggy hair whichadds greatly to 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 are short and thick, the hoofs arecloven, and the tail is short, with a tuft of hair at the extremity.
It is scarcely possible to conceive a wilder or more ferocious andterrible monster than a buffalo bull. He often grows to the enormousweight of two thousand pounds. His lion-like mane falls in shaggyconfusion quite over his head and shoulders, down to the ground. Whenhe is wounded he becomes imbued with the spirit of a tiger: he stamps,bellows, roars, and foams forth his rage with glaring eyes andsteaming nostrils, and charges furiously at man and horse with utterrecklessness. Fortunately, however, he is not naturally pugnacious,and can be easily thrown into a sudden panic. Moreover, the peculiarposition of his eye renders this creature not so terrible as he wouldotherwise be to the hunter. Owing to the stiff structure of the neck,and the sunken, downward-looking eyeball, the buffalo cannot, withoutan effort, see beyond the direct line of vision presented to thehabitual carriage of his head. When, therefore, he is wounded, andcharges, he does so in a straight line, so that his pursuer canleap easily out of his way. The pace of the buffalo is clumsy, and_apparently_ slow, yet, when chased, he dashes away over the plains inblind blundering terror, at a rate that leaves all but good horsesfar behind. He cannot keep the pace up, however, and is usually soonovertaken. Were the buffalo capable of the same alert and agilemotions of head and eye peculiar to the deer or wild horse, inaddition to his "bovine rage," he would be the most formidable bruteon earth. There is no object, perhaps, so terrible as the headlongadvance of a herd of these animals when thoroughly aroused by terror.They care not for their necks. All danger in front is forgotten, ornot seen, in the terror of that from which they fly. No thunderingcataract is more tremendously irresistible than the black bellowingtorrent which sometimes pours through the narrow defiles of the RockyMountains, or sweeps like a roaring flood over the trembling plains.
The wallowing, to which we have referred, is a luxury usually indulgedin during the hot months of summer, when the buffaloes are tormentedby flies, and heat, and drought. At this season they seek the lowgrounds in the prairies where there is a little stagnant water lyingamongst the grass, and the ground underneath, being saturated, issoft. The leader of the herd, a shaggy old bull, usually takes uponhimself to prepare the wallow.
It was a rugged monster of the largest size that did so on the presentoccasion, to the intense delight of Dick Varley, who begged Joe tolie still and watch the operation before trying to shoot one of thebuffalo cows. Joe consented with a nod, and the four spectators--forCrusoe was as much taken up with the proceedings as any ofthem--crouched in the grass, and looked on.
Coming up to the swampy spot, the old bull gave a grunt ofsatisfaction, and going down on one knee, plunged his short thickhorns into the mud, tore it up, and cast it aside. Having repeatedthis several times, he plung
ed his head in, and brought it forthsaturated with dirty water and bedaubed with lumps of mud, throughwhich his fierce eyes gazed, with a ludicrous expression ofastonishment, straight in the direction of the hunters, as if he meantto say, "I've done it that time, and no mistake!" The other buffaloesseemed to think so too, for they came up and looked on with anexpression that seemed to say, "Well done, old fellow; try thatagain!"
The old fellow did try it again, and again, and again, plunging, andramming, and tearing up the earth, until he formed an excavationlarge enough to contain his huge body. In this bath he laid himselfcomfortably down, and began to roll and wallow about until he mixed upa trough full of thin soft mud, which completely covered him. When hecame out of the hole there was scarcely an atom of his former selfvisible!
The coat of mud thus put on by bulls is usually permitted by them todry, and is not finally got rid of until long after, when oft-repeatedrollings on the grass and washings by rain at length clear it away.
When the old bull vacated this delectable bath, another bull, scarcelyif at all less ferocious-looking, stepped forward to take his turn;but he was interrupted by a volley from the hunters, which scatteredthe animals right and left, and sent the mighty herds in the distanceflying over the prairie in wild terror. The very turmoil of their ownmad flight added to their panic, and the continuous thunder of theirhoofs was heard until the last of them disappeared on the horizon. Thefamily party which had been fired at, however, did not escape so well,Joe's rifle wounded a fat young cow, and Dick Varley brought it down.Henri had done his best, but as the animals were too far distant forhis limited vision, he missed the cow he fired at, and hit the youngbull whose bath had been interrupted. The others scattered and fled.
"Well done, Dick," exclaimed Joe Blunt, as they all ran up to the cowthat had fallen. "Your first shot at the buffalo was a good un. Come,now, an' I'll show ye how to cut it up an' carry off the tit-bits."
"Ah, mon dear ole bull!" exclaimed Henri, gazing after the animalwhich he had wounded, and which was now limping slowly away. "You isnot worth goin' after. Farewell--adieu."
"He'll be tough enough, I warrant," said Joe; "an' we've more meathere nor we can lift."
"But wouldn't it be as well to put the poor brute out o' pain?"suggested Dick.
"Oh, he'll die soon enough," replied Joe, tucking up his sleeves anddrawing his long hunting-knife.
Dick, however, was not satisfied with this way of looking at it.Saying that he would be back in a few minutes, he reloaded his rifle,and calling Crusoe to his side, walked quickly after the wounded bull,which was now hid from view in a hollow of the plain.
In a few minutes he came in sight of it, and ran forward with hisrifle in readiness.
"Down, Crusoe," he whispered; "wait for me here."
Crusoe crouched in the grass instantly, and Dick advanced. As he cameon, the bull observed him, and turned round bellowing with rage andpain to receive him. The aspect of the brute on a near view was soterrible that Dick involuntarily stopped too, and gazed with a mingledfeeling of wonder and awe, while it bristled with passion, andblood-streaked foam dropped from its open jaws, and its eyes glaredfuriously. Seeing that Dick did not advance, the bull charged him witha terrific roar; but the youth had firm nerves, and although the rushof such a savage creature at full speed was calculated to try thecourage of any man, especially one who had never seen a buffalo bullbefore, Dick did not lose presence of mind. He remembered the manystories he had listened to of this very thing that was now happening;so, crushing down his excitement as well as he could, he cocked hisrifle and awaited the charge. He knew that it was of no use to fire atthe head of the advancing foe, as the thickness of the skull, togetherwith the matted hair on the forehead, rendered it impervious to abullet.
When the bull was within a yard of him he leaped lightly to one sideand it passed. Just as it did so, Dick aimed at its heart and fired,but his knowledge of the creature's anatomy was not yet correct. Theball entered the shoulder too high, and the bull, checking himself aswell as he could in his headlong rush, turned round and made at Dickagain.
The failure, coupled with the excitement, proved too much for Dick; hecould not resist discharging his second barrel at the brute's head asit came on. He might as well have fired at a brick wall. It shook itsshaggy front, and with a hideous bellow thundered forward. Again Dicksprang to one side, but in doing so a tuft of grass or a stone caughthis foot, and he fell heavily to the ground.
Up to this point Crusoe's admirable training had nailed him to thespot where he had been left, although the twitching of every fibre inhis body and a low continuous whine showed how gladly he would havehailed permission to join in the combat; but the instant he saw hismaster down, and the buffalo turning to charge again, he sprangforward with a roar that would have done credit to his bovine enemy,and seized him by the nose. So vigorous was the rush that he well-nighpulled the bull down on its side. One toss of its head, however, sentCrusoe high into the air; but it accomplished this feat at the expenseof its nose, which was torn and lacerated by the dog's teeth.
Scarcely had Crusoe touched the ground, which he did with a soundingthump, than he sprang up and flew at his adversary again. This time,however, he adopted the plan of barking furiously and biting by rapidyet terrible snaps as he found opportunity, thus keeping the bullentirely engrossed, and affording Dick an opportunity of reloading hisrifle, which he was not slow to do. Dick then stepped close up, andwhile the two combatants were roaring in each other's faces, he shotthe buffalo through the heart. It fell to the earth with a deep groan.
Crusoe's rage instantly vanished on beholding this, and he seemed tobe filled with tumultuous joy at his master's escape, for he gambolledround him, and whined and fawned upon him in a manner that could notbe misunderstood.
"Good dog; thank'ee, my pup," said Dick, patting Crusoe's head as hestooped to brush the dust from his leggings. "I don't know what wouldha' become o' me but for your help, Crusoe."
Crusoe turned his head a little to one side, wagged his tail, andlooked at Dick with an expression that said quite plainly, "I'd diefor you, I would--not once, or twice, but ten times, fifty times ifneed be--and that not merely to save your life, but even to pleaseyou."
There is no doubt whatever that Crusoe felt something of this sort.The love of a Newfoundland dog to its master is beyond calculation orexpression. He who once gains such love carries the dog's life in hishand. But let him who reads note well, and remember that there is onlyone coin that can purchase such love, and that is _kindness_. Thecoin, too, must be genuine. Kindness merely _expressed_ will not do,it must be _felt_.
"Hallo, boy, ye've bin i' the wars!" exclaimed Joe, raising himselffrom 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 with no otherinstrument than a large knife is no easy matter. Yet western huntersand Indians can do it without cleaver or saw, in a way that wouldsurprise a civilized butcher not a little. Joe was covered with bloodup to the elbows. His hair, happening to have a knack of getting intohis eyes, had been so often brushed off with bloody hands, that hiswhole visage was 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 out of the most delicate portionsof the buffalo--namely, the hump on its shoulder--which is a choicepiece, much finer than the best beef--and the tongue, and a few otherparts. The tongues of buffaloes are superior to those of domesticcattle. When all was ready the meat was slung across the back of thepack-horse; and the party, remounting their horses, continued theirjourney, having first cleansed themselves as well as they could in therather dirty waters of an old wallow.
"See," said Henri, turning to Dick and pointing to a circular spot ofgreen as they rode along, "that is one old _dry_ waller."
"Ay," remarked Joe; "after the waller dries, it becomes a ring o'greener grass than th
e rest o' the plain, as ye see. Tis said thefirst hunters used to wonder greatly at these myster'ous circles, andthey invented all sorts o' stories to account for 'em. Some said theywos fairy-rings, but at last they comed to know they wos nothin' morenor less than places where buffaloes wos used to waller in. It's oftenseemed to me that if we knowed the _raisons_ o' things, we wouldn't beso much puzzled wi' them as we are."
The truth of this last remark was so self-evident and incontrovertiblethat it elicited no reply, and the three friends rode on for aconsiderable time in silence.
It was now past noon, and they were thinking of calling a halt for ashort rest to the horses and a pipe to themselves, when Joe was heardto give vent to one of those peculiar hisses that always accompaniedeither a surprise or a caution. In the present case it indicated both.
"What now, Joe?"
"Injuns!" ejaculated Joe.
"Eh! fat you say? Ou is dey?"
Crusoe at this moment uttered a low growl. Ever since the day hehad been partially roasted he had maintained a rooted antipathy toRed-men. Joe immediately dismounted, and placing his ear to the groundlistened intently. It is a curious fact that by placing the ear closeto the ground sounds can be heard distinctly which could not be heardat all if the listener were to maintain an erect position.
"They're arter the buffalo," said Joe, rising, "an' I think it'slikely they're a band o' Pawnees. Listen an' ye'll hear their shoutsquite plain."
Dick and Henri immediately lay down and placed their ears to theground.
"Now, me hear noting," said Henri, jumping up, "but me ear is like meeyes--ver' short-sighted."
"I do hear something," said Dick as he got up, "but the beating o' myown heart makes row enough to spoil my hearin'."
Joe Blunt smiled. "Ah! lad, ye're young, an' yer blood's too hot yet;but bide a bit--you'll cool down soon. I wos like you once. Now, lads,what think ye we should do?"
"You know best, Joe."
"Oui, nodoubtedly.'
"Then wot I advise is that we gallop to the broken sand hillocks yesee yonder, get behind them, an' take a peep at the Redskins. If theyare Pawnees, we'll go up to them at once; if not, we'll hold a councilo' war on the spot."
Having arranged this, they mounted and hastened towards the hillocksin question, which they reached after ten minutes' gallop at fullstretch. The sandy mounds afforded them concealment, and enabled themto watch the proceedings of the savages in the plain below. The scenewas the most curious and exciting that can be conceived. The centre ofthe plain before them was crowded with hundreds of buffaloes, whichwere dashing about in the most frantic state of alarm. To whateverpoint they galloped they were met by yelling savages on horseback, whocould not have been fewer in numbers than a thousand, all being armedwith lance, bow, and quiver, and mounted on active little horses. TheIndians had completely surrounded the herd of buffaloes, and were nowadvancing steadily towards them, gradually narrowing the circle, andwhenever the terrified animals endeavoured to break through the line,they rushed to that particular spot in a body, and scared them backagain into the centre.
Thus they advanced until they closed in on their prey and formed anunbroken circle round them, whilst the poor brutes kept eddying andsurging to and fro in a confused mass, hooking and climbing upon eachother, and bellowing furiously. Suddenly the horsemen made a rush, andthe work of destruction began. The tremendous turmoil raised a cloudof dust that obscured the field in some places, and hid it from ourhunters' view. Some of the Indians galloped round and round thecircle, sending their arrows whizzing up to the feathers in the sidesof the fattest cows. Others dashed fearlessly into the midst of theblack heaving mass, and, with their long lances, pierced dozens ofthem to the heart. In many instances the buffaloes, infuriated bywounds, turned fiercely on their assailants and gored the horses todeath, in which cases the men had to trust to their nimble legs forsafety. Sometimes a horse got jammed in the centre of the swayingmass, and could neither advance nor retreat. Then the savage riderleaped upon the buffaloes' backs, and springing from one to another,like an acrobat, gained the outer edge of the circle; not failing,however, in his strange flight, to pierce with his lance several ofthe fattest of his stepping-stones as he sped along.
A few of the herd succeeded in escaping from the blood and dust ofthis desperate battle, and made off over the plains; but they werequickly overtaken, and the lance or the arrow brought them down on thegreen turf. Many of the dismounted riders were chased by bulls; butthey stepped lightly to one side, and, as the animals passed, drovetheir arrows deep into their sides. Thus the tumultuous war went on,amid thundering tread, and yell, and bellow, till the green plain wastransformed into a sea of blood and mire, and every buffalo of theherd was laid low.
It is not to be supposed that such reckless warfare is invariablywaged without damage to the savages. Many were the wounds and bruisesreceived that day, and not a few bones were broken, but happily nolives were lost.
"Now, lads, now's our time. A bold and fearless look's the best at alltimes. Don't look as if ye doubted their friendship; and mind, woteverye do, don't use yer arms. Follow me."
Saying this, Joe Blunt leaped on his horse, and, bounding over theridge at full speed, galloped headlong across the plain.
The savages observed the strangers instantly, and a loud yellannounced the fact as they assembled from all parts of the fieldbrandishing their bows and spears. Joe's quick eye soon distinguishedtheir chief, towards whom he galloped, still at full speed, tillwithin a yard or two of his horse's head; then he reined up suddenly.So rapidly did Joe and his comrades approach, and so instantaneouslydid they pull up, that their steeds were thrown almost on theirhaunches.
The Indian chief did not move a muscle. He was a tall, powerfulsavage, almost naked, and mounted on a coal-black charger, which hesat with the ease of a man accustomed to ride from infancy. He was,indeed, a splendid-looking savage, but his face wore a dark frown,for, although he and his band had visited the settlements andtrafficked with the fur-traders on the Missouri, he did not love the"Pale-faces," whom he regarded as intruders on the hunting-grounds ofhis fathers, and the peace that existed between them at that time wasof a very fragile character. Indeed, it was deemed by the tradersimpossible to travel through the Indian country at that period exceptin strong force, and it was the very boldness of the present attemptthat secured to our hunters anything like a civil reception.
Joe, who could speak the Pawnee tongue fluently, began by explainingthe object of his visit, and spoke of the presents which he hadbrought for the great chief; but it was evident that his words madelittle impression. As he discoursed to them the savages crowded roundthe little party, and began to handle and examine their dressesand weapons with a degree of rudeness that caused Joe considerableanxiety.
"Mahtawa believes that the heart of the Pale-face is true," said thesavage, when Joe paused, "but he does not choose to make peace. ThePale-faces are grasping. They never rest. They turn their eyes to thegreat mountains and say, 'There we will stop.' But even there theywill not stop. They are never satisfied; Mahtawa knows them well."
This speech sank like a death-knell into the hearts of the hunters,for they knew that if the savages refused to make peace, they wouldscalp them all and appropriate their goods. To make things worse, adark-visaged Indian suddenly caught hold of Henri's rifle, and, erehe was aware, had plucked it from his hand. The blood rushed to thegigantic hunter's forehead, and he was on the point of springing atthe man, when Joe said in a deep quiet voice,--
"Be still, Henri. You will but hasten death."
At this moment there was a movement in the outskirts of the circleof horsemen, and another chief rode into the midst of them. He wasevidently higher in rank than Mahtawa, for he spoke authoritatively tothe crowd, and stepped in before him. The hunters drew little comfortfrom the appearance of his face, however, for it scowled upon them.He was not so powerful a 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 river that they shouldcome to spy out the lands of the Pawnee?" he demanded.
"We have not come to spy your country," answered Joe, raising himselfproudly as he spoke, and taking off his cap. "We have come with amessage from the great chief of the Pale-faces, who lives in thevillage far beyond the great river where the sun rises. He says, Whyshould the Pale-face and the Red-man fight? They are brothers. Thesame Manitou[*] watches over both. The Pale-faces have more beads, andguns, and blankets, and knives, and vermilion than they require; theywish to give some of these things for the skins and furs whichthe Red-man does not know what to do with. The great chief of thePale-faces has sent me to say, Why should we fight? let us smoke thepipe of peace."
[Footnote *: The Indian name for God.]
At the mention of beads and blankets the face of the wily chiefbrightened for a moment. Then he said sternly,--
"The heart of the Pale-face is not true. He has come here to trade forhimself. San-it-sa-rish has eyes that can see; they are not shut.Are not these your goods?" The chief pointed to the pack-horse as hespoke.
"Trappers do not take their goods into the heart of an enemy's camp,"returned Joe. "San-it-sa-rish is wise, and will understand this. Theseare gifts to the chief of the Pawnees. There are more awaiting himwhen the pipe of peace is smoked. I have said. What message shall wetake back to the great chief of the Pale-faces?"
San-it-sa-rish was evidently mollified.
"The hunting-field is not the council tent," he said. "The Pale-faceswill go with us to our village."
Of course Joe was too glad to agree to this proposal, but he nowdeemed it politic to display a little firmness.
"We cannot go till our rifle is restored. It will not do to go backand tell the great chief of the Pale-faces that the Pawnees arethieves."
The chief frowned angrily.
"The Pawnees are true; they are not thieves. They choose to _look_ atthe rifle of the Pale-face. It shall be returned."
The rifle was instantly restored, and then our hunters rode off withthe Indians towards their camp. On the way they met hundreds of womenand children going to the scene of the great hunt, for it was theirspecial duty to cut up the meat and carry it into camp. The men,considering that they had done quite enough in killing it, returned tosmoke and eat away the fatigues of the chase.
As they rode along, Dick Varley observed that some of the "braves," asIndian warriors are styled, were eating pieces of the bloody liversof the buffaloes in a raw state, at which he expressed not a littledisgust.
"Ah, boy! you're green yet," remarked Joe Blunt in an undertone."Mayhap ye'll be thankful to do that same yerself some day."
"Well, I'll not refuse to try when it is needful," said Dick with alaugh; "meanwhile I'm content to see the Redskins do it, Joe Blunt."