CHAPTER TWENTY ONE.
WOLVES ATTACK THE HORSES, AND CAMERON CIRCUMVENTS THE WOLVES--ABEAR-HUNT, IN WHICH HENRI SHINES CONSPICUOUS--JOE AND THE"NATTER-LIST"--AN ALARM--A SURPRISE AND A CAPTURE.
We must now return to the camp where Walter Cameron still guarded thegoods, and the men pursued their trapping avocations.
Here seven of the horses had been killed in one night by wolves whilegrazing in a plain close to the camp, and on the night following a horsethat had strayed was also torn to pieces and devoured. The prompt anddaring manner in which this had been done convinced the trader thatwhite wolves had unfortunately scented them out, and he set severaltraps in the hope of capturing them.
White wolves are quite distinct from the ordinary wolves that prowlthrough woods and plains in large packs. They are much larger, weighingsometimes as much as a hundred and thirty pounds; but they arecomparatively scarce, and move about alone, or in small bands of threeor four. Their strength is enormous, and they are so fierce that theydo not hesitate, upon occasions, to attack man himself. Their method ofkilling horses is very deliberate. Two wolves generally undertake thecold-blooded murder. They approach their victim with the most innocentlooking and frolicsome gambols, lying down and rolling about, andfrisking pleasantly until the horse becomes a little accustomed to them.Then one approaches right in front, the other in rear, still friskingplayfully, until they think themselves near enough, when they make asimultaneous rush. The wolf which approaches in rear is the trueassailant; the rush of the other is a mere feint; then both fasten onthe poor horse's haunches and never let go till the sinews are cut andhe is rolling on his side.
The horse makes comparatively little struggle in this deadly assault.He seems paralysed and soon falls to rise no more.
Cameron set his traps towards evening in a circle with a bait in thecentre and then retired to rest. Next morning he called Joe Blunt andthe two went off together.
"It is strange that these rascally white wolves should be so bold whenthe smaller kinds are so cowardly," remarked Cameron, as they walkedalong.
"So 'tis," replied Joe, "but I've seed them other chaps bold enough tooin the prairie when they were in large packs and starvin'."
"I believe the small wolves follow the big fellows and help them to eatwhat they kill, though they generally sit round and look on at thekilling."
"Hist!" exclaimed Joe, cocking his gun, "there he is, an' no mistake."
There he was, undoubtedly. A wolf of the largest size with one of hisfeet in the trap. He was a terrible-looking object, for, besides hisimmense size and naturally ferocious aspect, his white hair bristled onend and was all covered with streaks and spots of blood from his bloodyjaws. In his efforts to escape he had bitten the trap until he hadbroken his teeth and lacerated his gums, so that his appearance washideous in the extreme. And when the two men came up he struggled withall his might to fly at them.
Cameron and Joe stood looking at him in a sort of wondering admiration.
"We'd better put a ball in him," suggested Joe after a time. "Mayhapthe chain won't stand sich tugs long."
"True, Joe; if it breaks we might get an ugly nip before we killed him."
So saying Cameron fired into the wolf's head and killed it. It wasfound, on examination, that four wolves had been in the traps, but therest 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 sameafternoon, a bear-hunt was undertaken, which well-nigh cost one of theIroquois his life. It happened thus:--
While Cameron and Joe were away after the white wolves, Henri camefloundering into camp tossing his arms like a maniac, and shouting that"seven bars wos be down in de bush close bye!" It chanced that this wasan idle day with most of the men, so they all leaped on their horses,and taking guns and knives sallied forth to give battle to the bears.
Arrived at the scene of action they found the seven bears busily engagedin digging up roots, so the men separated in order to surround them, andthen closed in. The place was partly open and partly covered with thickbushes into which a horseman could not penetrate. The moment the bearsgot wind of what was going forward they made off as fast as possible,and then commenced a scene of firing, galloping, and yelling, thatdefies description! Four out of the seven were shot before they gainedthe bushes; the other three were wounded, but made good their retreat.As their places of shelter, however, were like islands in the plain,they had no chance of escaping.
The horsemen now dismounted and dashed recklessly into the bushes, wherethey soon discovered and killed two of the bears; the third was notfound for some time. At last an Iroquois came upon it so suddenly thathe had not time to point his gun before the bear sprang upon him andstruck him to the earth, where it held him down.
Instantly the place was surrounded by eager men, but the bushes were sothick and the fallen trees among which the bear stood were so numerous,that they could not use their guns without running the risk of shootingtheir companion. Most of them drew their knives and seemed about torush on the bear with these, but the monster's aspect, as it glaredround, was so terrible that they held back for a moment in hesitation.
At this moment Henri, who had been at some distance engaged in thekilling of one of the other bears, came rushing forward after his ownpeculiar manner.
"Ah! fat is eet--hay? de bar no go under yit?"
Just then his eye fell on the wounded Iroquois with the bear above him,and he uttered a yell so intense in tone that the bear himself seemed tofeel that something decisive was about to be done at last. Henri didnot pause, but with a flying dash he sprang like a spread eagle, armsand legs extended, right into the bear's bosom. At the same moment hesent his long hunting-knife down into its heart. But Bruin isproverbially hard to kill, and although mortally wounded, he hadstrength enough to open his jaws and close them on Henri's neck.
There was a cry of horror, and at the same moment a volley was fired atthe bear's head, for the trappers felt that it was better to riskshooting their comrades than see them killed before their eyes.Fortunately the bullets took effect, and tumbled him over at oncewithout doing damage to either of the men, although several of the ballsjust grazed Henri's temple and carried off his cap.
Although uninjured by the shot, the poor Iroquois had not escapedscatheless from the paw of the bear. His scalp was torn almost off, andhung down over his eyes, while blood streamed down his face. He wasconveyed by his comrades to the camp, where he lay two days in a stateof insensibility, at the end of which time he revived and recovereddaily. Afterwards when the camp moved he had to be carried, but in thecourse of two months he was as well as ever, and quite as fond ofbear-hunting!
Among other trophies of this hunt there were two deer, and a buffalo,which last had probably strayed from the herd. Four or five Iroquoiswere round this animal whetting their knives for the purpose of cuttingit up when Henri passed, so he turned aside to watch them perform theoperation, quite regardless of the fact that his neck and face werecovered with blood which flowed from one or two small punctures made bythe bear.
The Indians began by taking off the skin, which certainly did not occupythem more than five minutes. Then they cut up the meat and made a packof it, and cut out the tongue, which is somewhat troublesome, as thatmember requires to be cut out from under the jaw of the animal, and notthrough the natural opening of the mouth. One of the fore-legs was cutoff at the knee joint, and this was used as a hammer with which to breakthe skull for the purpose of taking out the brains, these being used inthe process of dressing and softening the animal's skin. An axe wouldhave been of advantage to break the skull, but in the hurry of rushingto the attack the Indians had forgotten their axes, so they adopted thecommon fashion of using the buffalo's hoof as a hammer, the shank beingthe handle. The whole operation of flaying, cutting up, and packing themeat, did not occupy more than twenty minutes. Before leaving theground these expert butchers trea
ted themselves to a little of themarrow and warm liver in a raw state!
Cameron and Joe walked up to the group while they were indulging in thislittle feast.
"Well, I've often seen that eaten, but I never could do it myself,"remarked the former.
"No!" cried Joe in surprise; "now that's oncommon cur'us. I've _lived_on raw liver an' marrow-bones for two or three days at a time, when wewos chased by the Camanchee Injuns and didn't dare to make a fire, an'it's ra'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'llremain in happy ignorance of how good it is."
"Well, it _is_ strange how some folk can't abide anything in the meatway they han't bin used to. D'ye know I've actually knowd men from thecities as wouldn't eat a bit o' horseflesh for love or money. Would yebelieve it?"
"I can well believe that, Joe, for I have met with such 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'mthinkin' o' a chap as once comed out to the prairies."
"Let us walk back to the camp, Joe, and you can tell me about him as wego along."
"I think," continued Joe, "he comed from Washington, but I never couldmake out right whether he wos a government man or not. Anyhow, he wos apheelosopher--a natter-list I think he call his-self."
"A naturalist," suggested Cameron.
"Ay, that wos more like it. Well, he wos about six feet two in hismoccasins, an' as thin as a ramrod, an' as blind as a bat--leastways hehad weak eyes an wore green spectacles. He had on a grey shootin' coatand trousers and vest and cap, with rid whiskers an' a long nose as ridat the point as the whiskers wos.
"Well, this gentleman engaged me an' another hunter to go a trip withhim into the prairies, so off we sot one fine day on three hosses withour blankets at our backs--we wos to depend on the rifle for victuals.At first I thought the Natter-list one o' the cruellest beggars as iverwent on two long legs, for he used to go about everywhere pokin' pinsthrough all the beetles, and flies, an' creepin' things he could soteyes on, an' stuck them in a box; but he told me he comed here a-purposeto git as many o' them as he could; so says I, `If that's it, I'll fillyer box in no time.'
"`Will ye?' says he, quite pleased like.
"`I will,' says I, an' galloped off to a place as was filled wi' allsorts o' crawlin' things. So I sets to work, and whenever I seed athing crawlin' I sot my fut on it and crushed it, and soon filled mybreast pocket. I coched a lot o' butterflies too, an' stuffed them intomy shot pouch, and went back in an hour or two an' showed him the lot.He put on his green spectacles and looked at them as if he'd seen arattlesnake.
"`My good man,' says he, `you've crushed them all to pieces!'
"`They'll taste as good for all that,' says I, for somehow I'd taken'tin me head that he'd heard o' the way the Injuns make soup o' thegrasshoppers, an was wantin' to try his hand at a new dish!
"He laughed when I said this, an' told me he wos collectin' them to takehome to be _looked_ at. But that's not wot I wos goin' to tell ye abouthim," continued Joe; "I wos goin' to tell ye how we made him eathorseflesh. He carried a revolver, too, this Natter-list did, to loadwi' shot as small as dust a-most, and shoot little birds with. I'veseed him miss birds only three feet away with it. An' one day he drewit all of a suddent and let fly at a big bum-bee that wos passin',yellin' out that it wos the finest wot he had iver seed. He missed thebee, of coorse, cause it was a flyin' shot, he said, but he sent thewhole charge right into Martin's back--Martin was my comrade's name. Bygood luck Martin had on a thick leather coat, so the shot niver got thelength o' his skin.
"One day I noticed that the Natter-list had stuffed small corks into themuzzles of all the six barrels of his revolver. I wondered what theywos for, but he wos al'ays doin' sich queer _things_ that I soon forgotit. `May be,' thought I, jist before it went out o' my mind,--`may behe thinks that 'll stop the pistol from goin' off by accident,' for yemust know he'd let it off three times the first day by accident, andwell-nigh blowed off his leg the last time, only the shot lodged in theback o' a big toad he'd jist stuffed into his breeches' pocket. Well,soon after, we shot a buffalo bull, so when it fell, off he jumps fromhis horse an runs up to it. So did I, for I wasn't sure the beast wasdead, an' I had jist got up when it rose an' rushed at the Natter-list.
"`Out o' the way,' I yelled, for my rifle was empty; but he didn't move,so I rushed forward an' drew the pistol out o' his belt and let fly inthe bull's ribs jist as it ran the poor man down. Martin came up thatmoment an' put a ball through its heart, and then we went to pick up theNatter-list. He came to in a little, 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 whole barrel-full lost!'It turned out that he had taken to usin' the barrels for bottles tohold things in, but he forgot to draw the charges, so sure enough I hadfired a charge o' bum-bees, an' beetles, an' small shot into thebuffalo!
"But that's not what I wos goin' to tell ye yet. We comed to a part o'the plains where we wos well-nigh starved for want o' game, an' theNatter-list got so thin that ye could a-most see through him, so Ioffered to kill my horse, an' cut it up for meat; but you niver saw sicha face he made. `I'd rather die first,' says he, `than eat it;' so wedidn't kill it. But that very day Martin got a shot at a wild horse andkilled it. The Natter-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' what to do.
"`I'll tell ye what,' cries Martin, `we'll cut it up, and take the meatinto camp and cook it without _sayin' a word_.'
"`Done,' says I, `that's it;' for ye must know the poor creature wos nojudge o' meat. He couldn't tell one kind from another, an' he niveraxed questions. In fact he niver a-most spoke to us all the trip.Well, we cut up the horse and carried the flesh and marrow-bones intocamp, takin' care to leave the hoofs and skin behind, and sot to workand roasted steaks and marrow-bones.
"When the Natter-list came back ye should ha' seen the joyful face heput on when he smelt the grub, for he was all but starved out, poorcritter.
"`What have we got here?' cried he, rubbin' his hands and 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 man pitch into anythinglike as that Natter-list did into that horseflesh.
"`These are first-rate marrow-bones,' says he, squintin' with one eyedown the shin bone o' the hind-leg to see if it 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't like to leave off.
"Well, we lived for a week on horseflesh, an' first-rate livin' it wos;then we fell in with buffalo, an' niver ran short again till we got tothe settlements, when he paid us our money an' shook hands, sayin' we'dhad a nice trip an' he wished us well. Jist as we wos partin' I said,says I, `D'ye know what it wos we lived on for a week arter we woswell-nigh starved in the prairies?'
"`What,' says he, `when we got yon capital marrow-bones?'
"`The same,' says I; `yon was _horseflesh_,' says I, `an' I think ye'llsur'ly niver say again that it isn't first-rate livin'.'
"`Yer jokin',' says he, turnin' pale.
"`It's true, sir, as true as yer standin' there.'
"Well, would ye believe it; he turned--that Natter-list did--as sick asa dog on the spot wot he wos standin' on, an' didn't taste meat againfor three days!"
Shortly after the conclusion of Joe's story they reached the camp, a
ndhere they found the women and children flying about in a state ofterror, and the few men who had been left in charge arming themselves inthe greatest haste.
"Hallo! something wrong here," cried Cameron hastening forward followedby Joe. "What has happened, eh?"
"Injuns comin', monsieur, look dere," answered a trapper, pointing downthe valley.
"Arm and mount at once, and come to the front of the camp," criedCameron in a tone of voice that silenced every other, and turnedconfusion into order.
The cause of all this outcry was a cloud of dust seen far down thevalley, which was raised by a band of mounted Indians who approached thecamp at full speed. Their numbers could not be made out, but they werea sufficiently formidable band to cause much anxiety to Cameron, whosemen, at the time, were scattered to the various trapping grounds, andonly ten chanced to be within call of the camp. However, with these tenhe determined to show a bold front to the savages, whether they came asfriends or foes. He therefore ordered the women and children within thecitadel formed of the goods and packs of furs piled upon each other,which point of retreat was to be defended to the last extremity. Thengalloping to the front he collected his men and swept down the valley atfull speed. In a few minutes they were near enough to observe that theenemy only numbered four Indians, who were driving a band of about ahundred horses before them, and so busy were they in keeping the trooptogether that Cameron and his men were close upon them before they wereobserved.
It was too late to escape. Joe Blunt and Henri had already swept roundand cut off their retreat. In this extremity the Indians slipped fromthe backs of their steeds and darted into the bushes, where they weresafe from pursuit, at least on horseback, while the trappers got behindthe horses and drove them towards the camp.
At this moment one of the horses sprang ahead of the others and made forthe mountain, with its mane and tail flying wildly in the breeze.
"Marrow-bones and buttons!" shouted one of the men, "there goes DickVarley's horse."
"So it am!" cried Henri, and dashed off in pursuit, followed by Joe andtwo others.
"Why, these are our own horses," said Cameron in surprise, as they drovethem into a corner of the hills from which they could not escape.
This was true, but it was only half the truth, for, besides their ownhorses, they had secured upwards of seventy Indian steeds, a mostacceptable addition to their stud, which, owing to casualties andwolves, had been diminishing too much of late. The fact was, that theIndians who had captured the horses belonging to Pierre and his partywere a small band of robbers who had travelled, as was afterwardslearned, a considerable distance from the south, stealing horses fromvarious tribes as they went along. As we have seen, in an evil hourthey fell in with Pierre's party and carried off their steeds, whichthey drove to a pass leading from one valley to the other. Here theyunited them with the main band of their ill-gotten gains, and while thegreater number of the robbers descended further into the plains insearch of more booty, four of them were sent into the mountains with thehorses already procured. These four, utterly ignorant of the presenceof white men in the valley, drove their charge, as we have seen, almostinto the camp.
Cameron immediately organised a party to go out in search of Pierre andhis companions, about whose fate he became intensely anxious, and in thecourse of half an hour as many men as he could spare with safety weredespatched in the direction of the Blue Mountains.