Майн Рид
The Boy Hunters
Seeing that there would be no chance to come up with them again, they all turned their horses, and commenced riding back to make sure of the one which Basil had knocked over by his first shot. He was still in the valley they knew, and as they had all seen him lying prostrate, they felt certain they had secured one at least, and that was all they wanted.
On reaching the ridge that overlooked the valley, what was their surprise to see the buffalo once more upon his feet, and surrounded by a score of snapping, snarling wolves! These were rushing upon him from all sides at once; while the wounded bull was turning briskly about, and endeavouring to keep them at bay with his horns. Some of the wolves were seen stretched out on the ground – to all appearance dead – while their companions kept up the attack with unrelenting fury. The eyes of the buffalo flashed fire, as, wheeling round and round, he endeavoured to keep his assailants in front of him.
It was evident, however, that the wolves were gaining upon him; and, had they been left to themselves, would soon have brought him down. Our hunters at first thought of allowing them to accomplish this feat; when all at once it occurred to them that, if they did so, the skin might be spoiled! The wolves with their fierce teeth would tear it to pieces. This thought decided them upon a different plan; and all three galloped down the ridge and out into the meadow – surrounding the buffalo as they came up. The wolves scattered in every direction; and the great bull, now perceiving his new enemies, commenced rushing from one to the other, endeavouring to carry their horses upon his horns. It was with great difficulty that they could keep out of his reach; but at length another well-directed shot from Basil’s rifle entered the heart of the animal; and, after balancing himself upon his spread limbs, and rocking awhile from side to side, the huge creature fell forward upon his knees and lay motionless, with a stream of blood pouring from his lips. In a few moments he was dead!
Having made sure of this, our hunters flung themselves from their horses, drew their skinning-knives, and made up to the noble quarry. You may fancy their astonishment as well as chagrin, when, upon getting close to the animal, they discovered that what they had taken for a white buffalo was no white buffalo after all, but a black one painted white! Neither more nor less. The thing was too plain. The lime-like coating which covered the huge animal all over was now apparent; and as they passed their hands through the long hair, a white substance resembling pulverised chalk came off upon their fingers!
What could have caused the strange phenomenon, they asked one another. But the explanation was soon found. They remembered the gypsum hills over which they had ridden on the preceding day. They remembered, too, that it had rained in the night. The buffaloes had been among these hills; and, according to their usual habit, had rolled and wallowed about in the wetted dust-heaps. The white, alabaster-like mud had adhered to their skins – thus giving them the colour which had so much deceived and mystified our hunters!
“Well,” exclaimed Basil, giving a kick to the body of the dead bull, “even black buffalo is not so bad after all. At the worst we shall have fresh meat for dinner; and with that let us console ourselves for the disappointment.”
So saying, Basil made signs to his brothers to assist; and all three set about preparing to skin the animal.
Chapter Thirty Five.
The Mysterious Wallet
That day our hunters dined, for the first time, on fresh buffalo-beef. After dinner they were not idle, but spent the remainder of the evening in drying a portion of the meat over a fire. They had resolved to encamp on the spot for the night, and follow up the trail in the morning. They therefore busied themselves, until a late hour, in preparing as much broiled buffalo-meat as would last them for several days.
It was near midnight before they thought of retiring to rest. As they had done upon like occasions before, it was agreed that one should keep watch – so as to keep off the wolves from the meat – while the other two slept.
Their camp was in the open ground, near the spot where the buffalo had been skinned. At a little distance off their animals were browsing upon the grass. The wolves were in great force – both prairie-wolves, and those of the large grey species. The scent of the broiling meat had attracted them from afar; and throughout the night they kept up a continuous howling, trotting all over the meadow around the camp.
François kept the first watch, and Lucien the second; Basil’s turn came next, and it was to extend till daybreak, when all were to be aroused – so that they might pack up at a very early hour, and continue the journey. They did not wish to lose a moment more than was necessary – as they knew that every hour the migrating herd would be gaining upon them, and thus prolong the pursuit.
Basil’s watch was a long one; and, having sat up so late, he felt sleepy. He was, therefore, in no very friendly humour with the wolves – upon whose account he was thus compelled to keep awake. Every now and then, as he saw them sneaking about in the darkness, he could not help muttering an angry ejaculation; and he had made up his mind, as soon as morning came, to empty his gun at one of the pack, by way of satisfying his feelings.
After a spell of watching, that lasted nearly three hours, he perceived the first streaks of dawn in the east.
“By the time we get breakfast cooked,” thought Basil, “there will be light enough to follow the trail; so I’ll rouse Frank and Luce; and, by way of a change, I’ll give them a reveille with my rifle. Let me pick out the largest of these sneaking wolves; I’ll put one of them at least from keeping anybody awake hereafter, I guess.”
Basil, as he reflected thus, raised himself upon his knees, and looked around to select a victim. Strange to say, the wolves, as if they had guessed his intention, had scattered away from the neighbourhood of the fire, though several could still be seen stealing along the edge of the willows. Basil chose one of these which appeared in the dim light to be a large grey one; and, levelling his piece, fired at it. As he was not very anxious whether he killed the animal or not, he fired carelessly.
Following the shot there was heard a loud scream, that was answered by fifty others, from all sides of the valley. It awoke the sleeping hunters; who, along with Basil, sprang to their feet. It was not the scream of wolves they had heard, but a cry of far different import. It was the yell of human voices —the war-cry of Indians!
All three stood speechless with terror; but, even could they have spoken, there was scarcely time allowed them to have uttered a word; for, almost simultaneous with the yells, there was a rushing forward of dark forms; and the next moment fifty tall savages were around them. Basil, who had been farthest out from the fire, was knocked senseless by a blow; while Lucien and François, who did not think of using their guns, were seized by the brawny arms of the Indians and held fast. It was fortunate for them that they did not make any resistance, else the savages would have killed all three upon the spot. As it was, even, they seemed for a while undetermined whether to do so or not – as it was one of their number that Basil had mistaken for a wolf, and the shot had wounded the Indian, which, of course, exasperated them greatly. Perceiving, however, the small force of the party, and that the boys made no farther resistance, they gave up the idea of killing them on the spot, but bound the arms of all three behind their backs; and then, after having mounted them on their horses, and gathered up their guns and blankets, led them out of the valley. At a short distance off, the Indians reached a spot where their own horses were tied. Here they halted for a moment – until each had got into his saddle – and then the whole party, prisoners and all, set off at a brisk trot over the prairie.
In about an hour they arrived at a large encampment upon the bank of a broad shallow river. There were nearly an hundred lodges standing upon the plain; and the ground was littered with buffalo-horns and hides, while vast quantities of the flesh of these animals were hanging from poles in front of every lodge. There were fires, and camp-kettles, and dogs, and Indian ponies, and women, and children – all mixed up together, or moving to and fro among the tents.
In front of the encampment, and near the bank of the stream, the prisoners were thrown upon the ground. Their captors left them; but they were at once surrounded by a crowd of yelling squaws and children. These at first regarded them only with curiosity; but as soon as they heard that one of the Indians had been wounded, they uttered the most hideous and piercing cries, and approached their captives with threatening looks and gestures. They commenced their cowardly torture by pulling the ears and hair of the boys, and sticking arrow-points into their arms and shoulders; and then, by way of having a little fun, several of the squaws seized hold of, and dragged the three prisoners out into the middle of the stream. Here they ducked them, keeping their heads for a long time under water, all the while yelling and laughing like so many demons. The poor captives for a while believed that these women were about to drown them, and, tied as they were, they could make no effort to save themselves. This, however, was not the intention of the squaws; they were only disposed to have as much fun out of them as possible. After they had got tired of this amusement, they dragged the boys back again to the bank, and flung them dripping upon the grass.
But what was Basil doing all this time? Did he not possess a charm about him, that would have put an end to all this torturing treatment, and have made the Indians friends instead of such cruel enemies? Ah! poor Basil! he had suffered worse than any of the three. I shall tell you how it was with him.
At their capture Basil had been stunned by the blow of a tomahawk. He had been knocked quite senseless; and although he recovered himself so far as to be able to ride to the Indian camp, it was not until after the ducking he received in the cold river that he fairly came to himself. As soon as he did so, he bethought himself of that which he carried under the breast of his hunting-shirt. In fact, his brothers had been reminding him of it every moment, anxiously entreating him to make use of a secret of which neither of them fully understood the nature. But, up to this time, Basil, bewildered by the blow, was scarcely conscious of what he did. He had now recovered himself, and was making every effort to get at the string, and draw the embroidered pouch from his breast; but his hands were tied behind him, and he could not use them! He essayed to reach it with his mouth, but all his efforts were in vain. He then turned towards his brothers, so that they might stretch forward and draw out the string with their teeth. They were no longer near him! The squaws had dragged them to some distance off; and, like himself, their ankles were tied together, and they could not move from the spot where they had been placed.
Basil saw all this with a feeling of consternation; for, judging from the cruel treatment to which they had been submitted, and from the excited and exasperated manner of the Indians, he began to fear the worst, and to doubt whether the charm he carried might, after all, avail them. He used every effort to give it a trial. Failing to reach it, he made signs to the squaws around him, nodding with his head, and casting his eyes downward towards his breast. These, however, did not understand his meaning; and only laughed at what appeared to them a somewhat comic pantomime.
During the continuance of this scene, the Indian men stood apart, conversing together, and evidently deliberating what they should do with their prisoners. The manner of some of them was angry and excited. They talked loudly, and gesticulated with violence, occasionally pointing to a spot of level ground in front of the camp. The captives could see that among these loud talkers was the man whom Basil had wounded, as he carried his arm in a bandage. He was an ill-favoured, ferocious-looking savage; and the boys, although they knew not a word that was uttered, could tell by his manner that he was speaking against them. To their consternation, they at length saw that he and his party had carried their point, and all the others appeared to acquiesce. What could their decision have been? Were they going to murder them? Agonised with these terrible apprehensions, the boys watched every action of the Indians with the keenest solicitude.
All at once each one of the savages was seen to arm himself with a bow; while two of their number, carrying a large stake, proceeded out into the open ground, and planted it firmly in the earth. O God! the horrid truth now became clear. It was their intention to tie their prisoners to the stake, and use them as a target for their arrows! The boys had heard that this was a common custom among Indians with their captives; and each of them uttered a cry of terror, as they recognised the fearful preparations.
They had but little time to shout to each other; and what they said was drowned by the yells of the squaws and children, who leaped and danced over the ground, evidently delighted with the prospect of the horrid spectacle they were about to witness.
Fortunately Basil was selected as the first victim. His superior size and age, no doubt, obtained him that preference. He was rudely seized by a pair of Indians and dragged up to the stake, where the savages commenced stripping him – by way of making a better mark of his naked body!
As soon as they had loosened his arms and pulled off his hunting-shirt, the embroidered pouch attracted their attention. One of them seized it, and drew forth its contents – which proved to be a pipe-head of the red clay-stone– the celebrated steatite. As soon as the savage set his eyes upon it, he uttered a strange exclamation, and handed it to his companion. The latter took it into his hands, uttered a similar ejaculation, and carrying it with him, ran back to the crowd. These, as soon as it reached them, could be seen passing it from hand to hand, each examining it minutely, and making some remark; but one Indian, more than the rest, seemed to be excited upon beholding it; and this one, after he had gazed upon it for a moment, ran hurriedly towards Basil, followed by all the others!
This was the opportunity which Basil wished for; and as the Indian stood in front of him, and pointed to the pipe, as if waiting for an explanation, the boy, his hands being now free, deliberately and with coolness made several signs which had been taught him by his father. These signs were at once understood by the Indian, who sprang forward, pulled off the cords that bound Basil’s ankles, raised him to his feet, embracing him as he did so with friendly exclamations! All the other Indians now pressed forward, and grasped him by the hand, while some ran to Lucien and François, who, in a few moments, were likewise set free!
All three were now carried to one of the tents; dry clothes were put upon them, and as soon as it could be got ready, a feast was set before them: so that their captors, who but the moment before were about to put them one by one to a most cruel death, now seemed to strive with each other which should honour them the most! The Indian, however, who had shown so much interest at seeing the mysterious pipe-head, was allowed to take precedence in waiting upon them; and it was into his tent that our adventurers had been carried.
You will by this time wonder what there could be in a simple pipe-head, to have caused all this sudden and mysterious effect. I will tell you in as few words as possible.
You have no doubt heard of the celebrated Shawano chief Tecumseh – perhaps the greatest Indian warrior that ever lived, as well as the most remarkable of Indian statesmen. You may have heard, too, that during the last war between England and the United States, Tecumseh, taking advantage of the difference between these nations, endeavoured to excite the Indians to a general rising, for the purpose of driving all white men from the soil of America. Tecumseh had a brother, Elswatawa, better known by the name of “the Prophet.” This brother was to the full as enthusiastic as the chief himself in the wish to carry out their great design; and for this purpose he undertook a crusade to every tribe of Indians in the western parts of America. He was a man of great talents and eloquence, and was received with friendship wherever he went. The cause which he advocated was dear to all Indians; and of course he was listened to, and smoked the calumet with the men of every tribe. Now this very calumet, which had been used by the Prophet throughout all his wanderings, was the identical one which Basil carried, and which, by its strange carvings and hieroglyphics, was at once recognised by these Indians, who were of the Osage tribe, – one of those which the Prophet had visited.
But you will ask, how this calumet came into the possession of Basil’s father, and why its possession insured such mysterious protection to our adventurers. That I can also explain. Tecumseh was killed in the war with the Americans; but the Prophet lived for many years afterwards. Shortly after having emigrated to America, during one of his excursions near Saint Louis, the Colonel – the father of our boy hunters – met with this strange Indian; and, through some circumstances which happened, the Frenchman and he became fast friends. Presents were exchanged between them, and that which was received by the latter was the red calumet. The Prophet, on giving it, told the Colonel, that if ever he should have occasion to wander among the Indian tribes, it might prove useful to him; and at the same time initiated him into certain signs which he was to make use of in such time of need. In these signs the Colonel had instructed Basil, and we have already witnessed their effect. The Indian who had best understood them, and in whom they had produced the strongest emotions, happened to be a Shawano himself – one of that very tribe to which both the Prophet and Tecumseh belonged; and which is now but a remnant – most of its warlike sons being either dead, or scattered among the nomad bands that roam over the great western prairies. Such, then, was the history of the red calumet, which had proved the protector of our adventurous hunters.
In a short time they were enabled to communicate with the Indians by signs; for no people can understand such language better than Indians. The boys informed the Shawano who they were, and for what purpose they had ventured upon the prairies. On learning the nature of their expedition, the Indians were filled with astonishment as well as admiration for the courage of these young hunters. They told the latter, in return, that they themselves were out hunting the buffaloes – that they were now on the skirts of the great herd, and they believed that one or two white buffaloes had been seen. Furthermore, they added, that if the boys would remain, and hunt for a few days in company with them, no pains should be spared to kill or capture one of these animals, which should be placed at the disposal of their young guests. Of course, this invitation was cheerfully accepted.
I might narrate many more adventures that befell our Boy Hunters; but I fear, young reader, you are already tired of the prairies. Suffice it, then, to say, that after some days spent in hunting with the Indians, a white buffalo was at length killed, his skin taken off in the proper manner, and, after being saturated with a preserving ointment, which Lucien had brought along with him, was carefully packed upon the back of the mule Jeanette. Our adventurers now bade farewell to their Indian friends, and set out on their return homewards. They were accompanied to the confines of Louisiana by the Shawano and several other Indians, who there took leave of them. In due time they safely reached the old house at Point Coupée; where I need not tell you they met with a joyous and affectionate welcome, both from their father and the ex-chasseur, Hugot. The old naturalist had gained what he wished for, and was as happy as man could be. He was prouder than ever of his boy-men– his “young Nimrods,” as he now called them – and on many a winter’s night by the cheerful log-fire, did he take pleasure in listening to the story of their adventures in search of a white buffalo.
