CHAPTER SIX.
THE GREAT PRAIRIES OF THE "FAR WEST"--A REMARKABLE COLONY DISCOVERED,AND A MISERABLE NIGHT ENDURED.
Of all the hours of the night or day the hour that succeeds the dawn isthe purest, the most joyous and the best. At least so think we; and sothink hundreds and thousands of the human family; and so thought DickVarley, as he sprung suddenly into a sitting posture next morning, andthrew his arms with an exulting feeling of delight round the neck ofCrusoe, who instantly sat up to greet him.
This was an unusual piece of enthusiasm on the part of Dick, but the dogreceived it with marked satisfaction, rubbed his big hairy cheek againstthat of his young master, and arose from his sedentary position in orderto afford free scope for the use of his tail.
"Ho! Joe Blunt! Henri! Up, boys, up! The sun will have the start o'us. I'll catch the nags."
So saying Dick bounded away into the woods with Crusoe gambollingjoyously at his heels. Dick soon caught his own horse and Crusoe caughtJoe's. Then the former mounted and quickly brought in the other two.
Returning to the camp he found everything packed and ready to strap onthe back of the pack-horse.
"That's the way to do it, lad," cried Joe. "Here Henri, look alive andgit yer beast ready. I do believe yer goin' to take another snooze!"
Henri was indeed, at that moment, indulging in a gigantic stretch and acavernous yawn, but he finished both hastily, and rushed at his poorhorse as if he intended to slay it on the spot. He only threw thesaddle on its back, however, and then threw himself on the saddle.
"Now then, all ready?"
"Ay,--oui, yis!"
And away they went at full stretch again on their journey.
Thus day after day they travelled, and night after night they laid themdown to sleep under the trees of the forest, until at length theyreached the edge of the Great Prairie.
It was a great, a memorable day in the life of Dick Varley, that onwhich he first beheld the prairie,--the vast boundless prairie. He hadheard of it, talked of it, dreamed about it, but he had never,--no, hehad never realised it. 'Tis always thus. Our conceptions of thingsthat we have not seen are almost invariably wrong. Dick's eyesglittered, and his heart swelled, and his cheeks flushed, and his breathcame thick and quick.
"There it is," he gasped, as the great rolling plain broke suddenly onhis enraptured gaze; "that's it--oh!--"
Dick uttered a yell that would have done credit to the fiercest chief ofthe Pawnees, and, being unable to utter another word, he swung his capin the air and sprang like an arrow from a bow over the mighty ocean ofgrass. The sun had just risen to send a flood of golden glory over thescene; the horses were fresh, so the elder hunters, gladdened by thebeauty of all around them, and inspired by the irresistible enthusiasmof their young companion, gave the reins to the horses and flew afterhim. It was a glorious gallop, that first headlong dash over theboundless prairie of the "far west!"
The prairies have often been compared, most justly, to the ocean. Thereis the same wide circle of space bounded on all sides by the horizon;there is the same swell, or undulation, or succession of long lowunbroken waves that marks the ocean when it is calm; they are canopiedby the same pure sky, and swept by the same untrammelled breezes. Thereare islands, too--clumps of trees and willow-bushes,--which rise out ofthis grassy ocean to break and relieve its uniformity; and these vary insize and numbers as do the isles of ocean--being numerous in someplaces, while in others they are so scarce that the traveller does notmeet one in a long day's journey. Thousands of beautiful flowers deckedthe green sward, and numbers of little birds hopped about among them.
"Now, lads," said Joe Blunt, reining up, "our troubles begin to-day."
"Our troubles! our joys, you mean!" exclaimed Dick Varley.
"P'raps I don't mean nothin' o' the sort," retorted Joe. "Man wos neverintended to swaller his joys without a strong mixtur' o' troubles. Is'pose he couldn't stand 'em pure. Ye see we've got to the prairienow--"
"One blind hoss might see dat!" interrupted Henri.
"An' we may or may not diskiver buffalo. An' water's scarce, too, sowe'll need to look out for it pretty sharp, I guess, else we'll lose ourhorses, in which case we may as well give out at once. Besides, there'srattlesnakes about in sandy places--we'll ha' to look out for them; an'there's badger holes--we'll need to look sharp for them lest the horsesput their feet in 'em; an' there's Injuns, who'll look out pretty sharpfor _us_ if they once get wind that we're in them parts."
"Oui, yis, mes boys, and there's rain, and tunder, and lightin'," addedHenri, pointing to a dark cloud which was seen rising on the horizonahead of them.
"It'll be rain," remarked Joe, "but there's no thunder in the air jistnow; we'll make for yonder clump o' bushes and lay by till it's past."
Turning a little to the right of the course they had been following, thehunters galloped along one of the hollows between the prairie wavesbefore mentioned, in the direction of a clump of willows. Beforereaching it however, they passed over a bleak and barren plain wherethere was neither flower nor bird. Here they were suddenly arrested bya most extraordinary sight--at least it was so to Dick Varley, who hadnever seen the like before. This was a colony of what Joe called"prairie-dogs." On first beholding them Crusoe uttered a sort of halfgrowl, half bark of surprise, cocked his tail and ears, and instantlyprepared to charge, but he glanced up at his master first forpermission. Observing that his finger and his look commanded "silence"he dropped his tail at once and stepped to the rear. He did not,however, cease to regard the prairie-dogs with intense curiosity.
These remarkable little creatures have been egregiously misnamed by thehunters of the west, for they bear not the slightest resemblance todogs, either in formation or habits. They are, in fact, the marmot, andin size are little larger than squirrels, which animals they resemble insome degree. They burrow under the light soil and throw it up in moundslike moles.
Thousands of them were running about among their dwellings when Dickfirst beheld them, but the moment they caught sight of the horsemenrising over the ridge, they set up a tremendous hubbub of consternation;each little beast instantly mounted guard on the top of his house andprepared, as it were, to "receive cavalry."
The most ludicrous thing about them was, that although the most timidand cowardly creatures in the world, they seemed the most impertinentthings that ever lived! Knowing that their holes afforded them aperfectly safe retreat they sat close beside them, and as the huntersslowly approached, they elevated their heads, wagged their little tails,showed their teeth, and chattered at them like monkeys. The nearer theycame the more angry and furious did the prairie-dogs become, until DickVarley almost fell off his horse with suppressed laughter. They let thehunters come close up, waxing louder and louder in their wrath; but theinstant a hand was raised to throw a stone or point a gun, a thousandlittle heads dived into a thousand holes, and a thousand little tailswriggled for an instant in the air--then, a dead silence reigned overthe deserted scene.
"Bien, them's have dive into de bo'-els of de eart'," said Henri with abroad grin.
Presently a thousand noses appeared, and nervously disappeared like thewink of an eye. Then they appeared again, and a thousand pairs of eyesfollowed. Instantly, like Jack in the box, they were all on the top oftheir hillocks again, chattering and wagging their little tails asvigorously as ever. You could not say that you _saw_ them jump out oftheir holes. Suddenly, as if by magic, they _were_ out; then Dicktossed up his arms, and, suddenly, as if by magic, they were gone!
Their number was incredible, and their cities were full of riotousactivity. What their occupations were the hunters could not ascertain,but it was perfectly evident that they visited a great deal and gossipedtremendously, for they ran about from house to house, and sat chattingin groups; but it was also observed that they never went far from theirown houses. Each seemed to have a circle of acquaintance in theimmediate neighbourhood of his own residence, to which in case of suddend
anger he always fled.
But another thing about these prairie-dogs (perhaps, considering theirsize, we should call them prairie-doggies), another thing about them, wesay, was that each doggie lived with an owl, or, more correctly, an owllived with each doggie! This is such an extraordinary _fact_, that wecould scarce hope that men would believe us, were our statement notsupported by dozens of trustworthy travellers who have visited andwritten about these regions. The whole plain was covered with theseowls. Each hole seemed to be the residence of an owl and a doggie, andthese incongruous couples lived together apparently in perfect harmony.
We have not been able to ascertain from travellers _why_ the owls havegone to live with these doggies, so we beg humbly to offer our ownprivate opinion to the reader. We assume, then, that owls find itabsolutely needful to have holes. Probably prairie-owls cannot digholes for themselves. Having discovered, however, a race of littlecreatures that could, they very likely determined to take forciblepossession of the holes made by them. Finding, no doubt, that, whenthey did so, the doggies were too timid to object, and discovering,moreover, that they were sweet, innocent little creatures, the owlsresolved 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 holes also; but wecannot certify our reader of the truth of this,--still it is well to beacquainted with a report that is current among the men of the backwoods.If it be true, we are of opinion that the doggie's family is the mostmiscellaneous and remarkable on the face of--or, as Henri said, in thebo'-els--of the earth.
Dick and his friends were so deeply absorbed in watching these curiouslittle creatures that they did not observe the rapid spread of the blackclouds over the sky. _A_ few heavy drops of rain now warned them toseek shelter, so wheeling round they dashed off at speed for the clumpof willows, which they gained just as the rain began to descend intorrents.
"Now, lads, do it slick. Off packs and saddles," cried Joe Blunt,jumping from his horse. "I'll make a hut for 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 hand here, Dick; de bockle am tight as de hosse's ownskin. Ah! dere all right."
"Hallo! what's this?" exclaimed Dick, as Crusoe advanced with somethingin his mouth. "I declare, it's a bird of some sort."
"A prairie-hen," remarked Joe, as Crusoe laid the bird at Dick's feet;"capital for supper."
"Ah! dat chien is superb! goot dog. Come here, I vill clap you."
But Crusoe refused to be caressed. Meanwhile, Joe and Dick formed asort of beehive-looking hut by bending down the stems of a tall bush andthrusting their points into the ground. Over this they threw thelargest buffalo robe, and placed another on the ground below it, onwhich they laid their packs of goods. These they further securedagainst wet by placing several robes over them and a skin of parchment.Then they sat down on this pile to rest and consider what should be donenext.
"'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 looking up at the sky, whichwas now of a uniform watery grey, while black clouds drove athwart it.The rain was pouring in torrents, and the wind began to sweep it inbroad sheets over the plains, and under their slight covering, so thatin a short time they were wet to the skin. The horses stood meeklybeside them, with their tails and heads equally pendulous, and Crusoesat before his master, looking at him with an expression that seemed tosay, "Couldn't you put a stop to this if you were to try?"
"This'll never do. I'll try to git up a fire," said Dick, jumping up indesperation.
"Ye may save yerself the trouble," remarked Joe, drily--at least asdrily as was possible in the circumstances.
However, Dick did try, but he failed signally. Everything was soakedand saturated. There were no large trees; most of the bushes weregreen, and the dead ones were soaked. The coverings were slobbery; theskins they sat on were slobbery; the earth itself was slobbery; so Dickthrew his blanket (which was also slobbery) round his shoulders, and satdown beside his companions to grin and bear it. As for Joe and Henri,they were old hands, and accustomed to such circumstances. From thefirst they had resigned themselves to their fate, and wrapping their wetblankets round them sat down, side by side, wisely to endure the evilsthat they could not cure.
There is an old rhyme, by whom composed we know not--and it matterslittle--which runs thus--
"For every evil under the sun There 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. The principle involveddeserves to be heartily recommended. Dick never heard of the lines, buthe knew the principle well; so he began to "never mind it," by sittingdown beside his companions and whistling vociferously. As the windrendered this a difficult feat he took to singing instead. After thathe said, "Let's eat a bite, Joe, and then go to bed."
"Be all means," said Joe, who produced a mass of dried deer's meat froma wallet.
"It's cold grub," said Dick, "and tough."
But the hunters' teeth were sharp and strong, so they ate a heartysupper and washed it down with a drink of rain water collected from apool on the top of their hut. They now tried to sleep, for the nightwas advancing, and it was so dark that they could scarce see their handswhen held up before their faces. They sat back to back, and thus, inthe form of a tripod, began to snooze. Joe's and Henri's seasonedframes would have remained stiff as posts till morning; but Dick's bodywas young and pliant, so he hadn't been asleep a few seconds when hefell forward into the mud and effectually awakened the others. Joe gavea grunt, and Henri exclaimed, "Hah!" but Dick was too sleepy andmiserable to say anything. Crusoe, however, rose up to show hissympathy, and laid his wet head on his master's knee as he resumed hisplace. This catastrophe happened three times in the space of an hour,and by the third time they were all wakened up so thoroughly that theygave up the attempt to sleep, and amused each other by recounting theirhunting experiences and telling stories. So engrossed did they becomethat day broke sooner than they had expected--and just in proportion asthe grey light of dawn rose higher into the eastern sky did the spiritsof these weary men rise within their soaking bodies.