CHAPTER SEVEN.
THE "WALLERING" PECULIARITIES OF BUFFALO BULLS--THE FIRST BUFFALO HUNTAND ITS CONSEQUENCES--CRUSOE COMES TO THE RESCUE--PAWNEES DISCOVERED--AMONSTER 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, and bydint of extreme patience and cutting out the comparatively dry hearts ofseveral pieces of wood, they lighted a fire and boiled some rain water,which was soon converted into soup. This, and the exercise necessaryfor the performance of these several duties, warmed and partially driedthem, so that when they once more mounted their steeds and rode awaythey were in a state of comparative comfort and in excellent spirits.The only annoyance was the clouds of mosquitoes and large flies thatassailed men and horses whenever they checked their speed.
"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 two ofhis journey. It is true he was quite familiar with the names and habitsof all the animals that dwelt there, for many a time and oft had helistened to the "yarns" of the hunters and trappers of the MustangValley, when they returned laden with rich furs from their periodicalhunting expeditions. But this knowledge of his only served to whet hiscuriosity and his desire to _see_ the denizens of the prairies with hisown eyes, and now that his wish was accomplished, it greatly increasedthe 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 hissing soundreached his ear. Looking quickly back he observed his two companionscrouching on the necks of their horses, and slowly descending into ahollow of the prairie in front of them, as if they wished to bring therising ground between them and some object in advance. Dick instantlyfollowed their example and was soon at their heels.
"Ye needn't look at the waller," whispered Joe, "for a' t'other side o'the ridge there's a bull _wallerin'_."
"Ye don't mean it!" exclaimed Dick, as they all dismounted and picketedtheir horses to the plain.
"Oui," said Henri, tumbling off his horse, while a broad grin overspreadhis good-natured countenance; "it is one fact! One buffalo bull bewollerin' like a enormerous hog. Also, dere be t'ousands o' buffaloesfarder on."
"Can ye trust yer dog keepin' back?" inquired Joe, with a dubious glanceat Crusoe.
"Trust him! Ay, I wish I was as sure o' myself."
"Look to your primin', then, an' we'll have tongues and marrow-bones forsupper to-night, I'se warrant. Hist! down on yer knees, and go softly.We might ha' run them down on horseback, but its bad to wind yer beastson a trip like this, if ye can help it; an' it's about as easy to stalkthem. Leastways, we'll try. Lift yer head slowly, Dick, an' don't showmore nor the half o't above the ridge."
Dick elevated his head as directed, and the scene that met his view wasindeed well calculated to send an electric shock to the heart of anardent sportsman. The vast plain beyond was absolutely blackened withcountless herds of buffaloes, which were browsing on the rich grass.They were still so far distant that their bellowing, and the tramplingof their myriad hoofs, only reached the hunters like a faint murmur onthe breeze. In the immediate foreground, however, there was a group ofabout half a dozen buffalo cows feeding quietly, and in the midst ofthem an enormous old bull was enjoying himself in his wallow. Theanimals, towards which our hunters now crept with murderous intent, arethe fiercest and the most ponderous of the ruminating inhabitants of thewestern wilderness. The name of buffalo, however, is not correct. Theanimal is the _bison_, and bears no resemblance whatever to the buffaloproper; but as the hunters of the far west--and, indeed, travellersgenerally, have adopted the misnomer, we bow to the authority of customand adopt it too.
Buffaloes roam in countless thousands all over the North Americanprairies, from the Hudson's 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, butit varies a good deal with the seasons. The hair or fur, from its greatlength in winter and spring and exposure to the weather, turns quitelight; but when the winter coat is shed off the new growth is abeautiful 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, which addsgreatly to the fierce aspect of the animal. It has a large hump on theshoulder, and its fore-quarters are much larger, in proportion, than thehindquarters. The horns are short and thick; the hoofs are cloven, andthe 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 and steamingnostrils; and charges furiously at man and horse with utterrecklessness. Fortunately, however, he is not naturally pugnacious, andcan 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, without aneffort, see beyond the direct line of vision presented to the habitualcarriage of his head. When, therefore, he is wounded, and charges, hedoes so in a straight line, so that his pursuer can leap easily out ofhis way. The pace of the buffalo is clumsy, and _apparently_ slow, yet,when chased, he dashes away over the plains in blind blundering terror,at a rate that leaves all but good horses far behind. He cannot keepthe pace up, however, and is usually soon overtaken. Were the buffalocapable of the same alert and agile motions of head and eye peculiar tothe deer or wild horse, in addition to his "bovine rage," he would bethe most formidable brute on earth. There is no object, perhaps, soterrible as the headlong advance of a herd of these animals whenthoroughly aroused by terror. They care not for their necks. Alldanger in front is forgotten, or not seen, in the terror of that fromwhich they fly. No thundering cataract is more tremendouslyirresistible than the black bellowing torrent which sometimes poursthrough the narrow defiles of the Rocky Mountains, or sweeps like aroaring 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 tormented byflies, and heat, and drought. At this season they seek the low groundsin the prairies where there is a little stagnant water lying amongst thegrass, and the ground underneath, being saturated, is soft. The leaderof the herd, a shaggy old bull, usually takes upon himself to preparethe 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 to liestill and watch the operation before trying to shoot one of the buffalocows. Joe consented with a nod, and the four spectators--for Crusoe wasas much taken up with the proceedings as any of them--crouched in thegrass, and looked on.
Coming up to the swampy spot the old bull gave a grunt 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 heplunged his head in, and brought it forth saturated with dirty water,and bedaubed with lumps of mud, through which his fierce eyes gazed,with a ludicrous expression of astonishment, straight in the directionof the hunters, as if he meant to say, "I've done it that time, and nomistake!" The other buffaloes seemed to think so too, for they came upand looked, on with an expression that seemed to say, "Well done, oldfellow; try that again!"
The old fellow did try it again, and again, and again, plunging, andramming, and tearing up the earth, until he formed an excavation largeenough to contain his huge body. In this bath he laid himselfcomfortably down, and began to roll and wallow about until he mixed up atrough 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, scarcely,if at all, less ferocious-looking, stepped forward to take his turn, buthe was interrupted by a volley from the hunters, which scattered theanimals right and left, and sent the mighty herds in the distance flyingover the prairie in wild terror. The very turmoil of their own madflight added to their panic, and the continuous thunder of their hoofswas heard until the last of them disappeared on the horizon. The familyparty which had been fired at, however, did not escape so well. Joe'srifle wounded a fat young cow, and Dick Varley brought it down. Henrihad done his best, but, as the animals were too far distant for hislimited vision, he missed the cow he fired at and hit the young bullwhose 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. Comenow an I'll show ye how to cut it up an' carry off the titbits."
"Ah! mon dear ole bull," exclaimed Henri, gazing after the animal whichhe had wounded, and which was now limping slowly away. "You is notworth goin' after. Varewell,--adieu."
"He'll be tough enough, I warrant," said Joe, "an' we've more meat herenor 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. Sayingthat he would be back in a few minutes he re-loaded his rifle, andcalling Crusoe to his side, walked quickly after the wounded bull, whichwas now hid from view in a hollow of the plain.
In a few minutes he came in sight of it, and ran forward with his riflein 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 and painto receive him. The aspect of the brute on a near view was so terrible,that Dick involuntarily stopped too, and gazed with a mingled feeling ofwonder and awe, while it bristled with passion, and blood-streaked foamdropped from its open jaws, and its eyes glared furiously. Seeing thatDick did not advance, the bull charged him with a terrific roar; but theyouth had firm nerves, and although the rush of such a savage creatureat full speed was calculated to try the courage of any man, especiallyone who had never seen a buffalo bull before, Dick did not lose presenceof mind. He remembered the many stories he had listened to of this verything that was now happening, so, crushing down his excitement as wellas he could, he cocked his rifle and awaited the charge. He knew thatit was of no use to fire at the head of the advancing foe, as thethickness of 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 leaped lightly to one side andit passed. Just as it did so, Dick aimed at its heart and fired, buthis knowledge of the creature's anatomy was not yet correct. The ballentered the shoulder too high, and the bull, checking himself as well ashe could in his headlong rush, turned round and made at Dick again.
The failure coupled with the excitement proved too much for Dick; hecould not resist discharging his second barrel at the brute's head as itcame 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 the spotwhere he had been left, although the twitching of every fibre in hisbody and a low continuous whine showed how gladly he would have hailedpermission to join in the combat; but the instant he saw his master downand the buffalo turning to charge again, he sprang forward with a roarthat would have done credit to his bovine enemy, and seized him by thenose. So vigorous was the rush that he well-nigh pulled the bull downon its side. One toss of its head, however, sent Crusoe high into theair, but it accomplished this feat at the expense of its nose, which wastorn 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 re-loading hisrifle, which he was not slow to do. Dick then stepped close up, and,while the two combatants were roaring in each other's face; he shot thebuffalo through the heart. It fell to the earth with a deep groan.
Crusoe's rage instantly vanished on beholding this, and he seemed to befilled with tumultuous joy at his master's escape, for he gambolledround him, and whined and fawned upon him in a manner that could not bemisunderstood.
"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, and lookedat Dick with an expression that said quite plainly, "I'd die for you, Iwould--not once, or twice, but ten times, fifty times if need be--andthat not merely to save your life, but even to please you."
There is no doubt whatever that Crusoe felt something of this sort. Thelove 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_; the coin,too, must be genuine. Kindness merely _expressed_ will not do, it mustbe _felt_.
"Hallo! boy, ye've bin i' the wars!" exclaimed Joe, raising himself fromhis 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 carcase with no other instrumentthan a large knife is no easy matter. Yet western hunters and Indianscan do it without cleaver or saw, in a way that would surprise acivilised butcher not a little. Joe was covered with blood up to theelbows. His hair, happening to have a knack of getting into his eyes,had been so often brushed off with bloody hands, that his whole visagewas speckled with gore, and his dress was by no means immaculate.
While Dick related his adventure, or _mis-adventure_ with the bull, Joeand Henri completed the cutting out of the most delicate portions of thebuffalo, namely, the hump on its shoulder--which is a choice piece, muchfiner than the best beef--and the tongue, and a few other parts. Thetongues of buffaloes are superior to those of domestic cattle. When allwas ready the meat was slung across the back of the pack-horse, and theparty, remounting their horses, continued their journey, having firstcleansed themselves as well as they could in the rather dirty waters ofan 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 the 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 be somuch 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 heard togive vent to one of those peculiar hisses that always accompanied eithera surprise or a caution. In the present case it indicated both.
"What now, Joe?"
"Injuns!" ejaculated Joe.
"Eh! fat you say? ou is de?"
Crusoe at this moment uttered a low growl. Ever since the day he hadbeen partially roasted he had maintained a rooted antipathy to Red-men.Joe immediately dismounted, and placing his ear to the ground listenedintently. It is a curious fact that by placing the ear close to theground sounds can be heard distinctly which could not be heard at all ifthe listener were to maintain an erect position.
"They're arter the buffalo," said Joe, rising, "an' I think it's likelythey're a band o' Pawnees. Listen an' ye'll hear their shouts quiteplain."
Dick and Henri immediately lay down and placed their ears to the ground.
"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, yer young an' yer blood's too hot yet, butbide 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 ye seeyonder, get behind them an' take a peep at the Red-skins. If they arePawnees we'll go up to them at once; if not, we'll hold a council o' waron the spot."
Having arranged this they mounted and hastened towards the hillocks inquestion, which they reached after ten minutes' gallop, at full stretch.The sandy mounds afforded them concealment, and enabled them to watchthe proceedings of the savages in the plain below. The scene was themost curious and exciting that can be conceived. The centre of theplain before them was crowded with hundreds of buffaloes, which weredashing about in the most frantic state of alarm. To whatever pointthey galloped they were met by yelling savages on horseback, who couldnot have been fewer in numbers than a thousand--all being armed withlance, 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, and,whenever 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 cloud ofdust that obscured the field in some places, and hid it from ourhunters' view. Some of the Indians galloped round and round the circle,sending their arrows whizzing up to the feathers in the sides of thefattest cows. Others dashed fearlessly into the midst of the blackheaving mass, and, with their long lances, pierced dozens of them to theheart. In many instances the buffaloes, infuriated by wounds, turnedfiercely on their assailants and gored the horses to death, in whichcases the men had to trust to their nimble legs for safety. Sometimes ahorse got jammed in the centre of the swaying mass, and could neitheradvance nor retreat. Then the savage rider leaped upon the buffaloes'backs, and springing from one to another, like an acrobat, gained theouter edge of the circle, not failing, however, in his strange flight,to pierce with his lance several of the fattest of his stepping-stonesas he sped along.
A few of the herd succeeded in escaping from the blood and dust of thisdesperate battle, and made off over the plains, but they were quicklyovertaken, and the lance or arrow brought them down on the green turf.Many of the dismounted riders were chased by bulls, but they steppedlightly to one side, and, as the animals passed, drove their arrows deepinto their sides. Thus the tumultuous war went on, amid thunderingtread, and yell, and bellow, till the green plain was transformed into asea of blood and mire, and every buffalo of the herd was laid low.
It is not to be supposed that such reckless warfare is invariably wagedwithout damage to the savages. Many were the wounds and bruisesreceived that day, and not a few bones were broken, but happily no liveswere 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 the ridgeat full speed, galloped headlong across the plain.
The savages observed the strangers instantly, and a loud yell announcedthe fact as they assembled from all parts of the field brandishing theirbows and spears. Joe's quick eye soon distinguished their chief,towards whom he galloped, still at full speed, till within a yard or twoof his horse's head; then he reined up suddenly. So rapidly did Joe andhis comrades approach, and so instantaneously did they pull up, thattheir steeds were thrown almost on their haunches.
The Indian chief did not move a muscle. He was a tall powerful savage,almost naked, and mounted on a coal-black charger, which he sat with theease of a man accustomed to ride from infancy. He was, indeed, asplendid-looking savage, but his face wore a dark frown, for, althoughhe and his band had visited the settlements and trafficked with thefur-traders on the Missouri, he did not love the "Pale-faces," whom heregarded as intruders on the hunting grounds of his fathers, and thepeace that existed between them at that time was of a very fragilecharacter. Indeed, it was deemed by the traders impossible to travelthrough the Indian country at that period except in strong force, and itwas the very boldness of the present attempt that secured to our huntersanything like a civil reception.
Joe, who could speak the Pawnee tongue fluently, began by explaining theobject of his visit, and spoke of the presents which he had brought forthe great chief; 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 and weaponswith a degree of rudeness that caused Joe considerable anxiety.
"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, forthey knew that if the savages refused to make peace, they would scalpthem all and appropriate their goods. To make things worse, adark-visaged Indian suddenly caught hold of Henri's rifle, and, ere hewas aware, plucked it from his hand. The blood rushed to the gigantichunter's forehead, and he was on the point of springing at the man, whenJoe 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 circle ofhorsemen, 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 t
hem. Hewas not so powerful a man as Mahtawa, but he was more gracefully formed,and had a more noble and commanding countenance.
"Have the Pale-faces no wigwams on the great river that they should cometo 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 the villagefar beyond the great river where the sun rises. He says, why should thePale-face and the Red-man fight? They are brothers. The same Manitou[the Indian name for God] watches over both. The Pale-faces have morebeads, and guns, and blankets, and knives, and vermilion than theyrequire; they wish to give some of these things for the skins and furswhich the 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!'"
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. Arenot these your goods?" The chief pointed to the pack-horse as he spoke.
"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 him whenthe pipe of peace is smoked. I have said,--What message shall we takeback 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 only 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 back andtell the great chief of the Pale-faces that the Pawnees are thieves."
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 with theIndians towards their camp. On the way they met hundreds of women andchildren going to the scene of the great hunt, for it was their specialduty to cut up the meat and carry it into camp. The men, consideringthat they had done quite enough in killing it, returned to smoke and eataway 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 livers ofthe 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 Red-skins do it, Joe Blunt."