Майн Рид
The Boy Hunters
Chapter Sixteen.
Jeanette and the Javalies
Next morning they were astir at an early hour; and, after giving the remains of the gobbler a hurried “devilling,” they ate them, and rode off on the back trail. They did not put the dog upon it to guide them – as the scent was now cold, and they feared that Marengo, keen as he was, might get astray upon it. They trusted to find it from their own tracks, and the “blazes” they had made. It was a slow process, and they were obliged to make frequent halts; but it was a sure one, and they preferred it on that account, as they knew the importance of getting back to Jeanette. The tent, with all their provisions and implements, was in her keeping.
They were in high spirits – as most people are who have just escaped from a perilous adventure – and joked each other as they rode along. Lucien was without a shirt – for Marengo had torn it, and it was now draggled, wet, and worthless. This was a staple joke for François. Jeanette came in for a share of their badinage, as Lucien now remembered that he had tied her head within a foot of the tree, and of course she would be all this time without eating a morsel. Moreover, in their hurry, the pack had been left upon her back; and that was not likely to improve her temper.
It was near mid-day when they came within sight of her.
“Hilloa!” exclaimed François, who first caught a glimpse of her round a point of timber. “What’s going on yonder?”
All three halted, and looked across the plain with astonishment depicted in their faces; and no wonder, for a sight it was to astonish anybody. It was Jeanette, to be sure; but Jeanette in most singular attitudes. Her heels were flying in the air – now her fore-feet, now her hind ones – not in single flings, but in constant and rapid kicking. Sometimes the whole set appeared to bounce up at once; and the white canvas of the tent, which had got loosened, was flapping up and down, as her body rose and fell.
The boys looked on for a moment, with feelings of curiosity, not unmingled with fear. “It might be Indians,” thought they.
“No,” said Basil. “It is wolves – she is attacked by wolves! Let us hasten to her rescue!”
All three spurred their horses into a gallop, and soon got within a few hundred yards. They could now see the ground by the mule’s feet, which was covered, not with wolves, but with animals of a far different species. They were hog-shaped, with small, dark bodies, and long pointed snouts. They had no tails – only knobs in their place; and their tapering snouts opened into a pair of long jaws, with white tusks, that could be seen even in the distance.
“Javalies!” cried Lucien, who, although he had never seen the animal, knew them from description. Javalies they were in fact – the wild-hogs of Mexico.
All three had pulled up, as soon as they saw the animals were not wolves. They did not halt long, for Jeanette was in danger. She was still kicking and squealing like a cat; while the javalies, although several of them lay stretched behind her heels, were uttering their shrill grunts, and rushing at her shanks whenever these rested for a moment upon the earth. There were more than a hundred of them around her feet. The ground was literally covered with their dark forms, crowding each other, and springing nimbly about.
Without waiting to consider the danger, Basil dashed into their midst, followed by François and Lucien. It was well they were mounted, else they never would have come out of that crowd again. All three had fired as they rode up. They believed that this would have scattered the drove; but they found their mistake, for although each of them shot down a victim, it had no effect; and the next moment, their three horses were hopping about, plunging and pitching as badly as Jeanette. The javalies surrounded them with shrill gruntings, driving their tusks into the horses’ shanks, and leaping up almost high enough to reach the riders themselves. It was well for them they were good riders. Had any of them been unhorsed at that moment, his fate would have been sealed. They kept their saddles, however, but without being able to reload their pieces. Marengo, who was an old Texas hound, had seen javalies before; and having wisely shied off upon the prairie, stood looking on.
The young hunters soon saw that it was no use keeping their ground, and prepared to retreat. Basil urged his horse forward to the tree, and with his hunting-knife cut the lasso that fastened Jeanette; then, shouting to his brothers to follow, started in a gallop across the prairie.
Perhaps never was a mule more pleased at getting loose from a fastening than was that she-mule Jeanette; and never did a mule make better use of the heels that had been left her. She galloped over the prairie, as if the very deuce had been after her. But if he was not, the javalies were; for on came the whole drove, scores of them, grunting and screaming as they ran.
The horses easily distanced them. So, too, did Marengo – but there was still danger for Jeanette. She had been now nearly two days without either food or water, and was weak in consequence. Her legs, too, were much torn by the tusks of the wild-hogs. Moreover, the tent that had got loose, trailing on one side to the ground, considerably impeded her flight. This last circumstance in the end proved her salvation; for the javalies, overtaking her, seized the hanging canvas in their jaws, and pulled it from the pack. It fell spreading over the grass like a blanket; and the herd, now coming up and mistaking it for their real enemy, commenced stamping upon it with their hoofs, and tearing it with their teeth. This gave Jeanette time; and she was just the mule at that moment to profit by it. Lightened of her load, she struck out into a fleet gallop, and soon overtook the horses; and the whole cavalcade now kept on, until they had placed several miles between themselves and the javalies. Here they halted with the intention of pitching their camps, as their animals were not only wearied, but Jeanette was hardly able to travel at all. The process of “pitching camp” was now considerably simplified, as they had lost not only their tent, but several of their camp utensils.
What had induced the javalies to attack the mule? This was the subject of conversation with our adventurers, as soon as they had fairly cooled from their race. They knew that these creatures rarely make an assault in such a manner without provocation. But it was likely Jeanette had given them this. No doubt they had been wandering about in search of food, and lighted upon the turkeys, that Lucien and Basil in their haste had left lying upon the ground. The wild-hogs are not particular as to their food. They will eat fish, flesh, or fowl, snakes, or vegetables; and, finding the brace of birds, had commenced devouring them. In doing so they had come within reach of Jeanette’s heels; who, at that moment not being in the best temper had no doubt let fly, and kicked one of them over, and this of course had led to a general onslaught from the whole herd.
It was well for Jeanette that her masters arrived when they did, else her old ribs would soon have cracked under the sharp tusks of the enraged animals.
The javalies, or peccaries– as they are more often termed by naturalists – are in general of a harmless disposition; and, if not interfered with, will rarely make an attack upon man. When provoked, however – by one of their number being wounded, or even when their haunt is invaded – they become both fierce and dangerous. Though small creatures, they possess extreme courage; and their powerful jaws and large tusks render them formidable assailants. Like all animals of the hog species when enraged, they seem to be unconscious of danger; and a herd of them will battle with an enemy until every one has fallen. Not unfrequently the Mexican hunter is “treed” by javalies, and compelled to remain on his perch for hours, and sometimes for days, before his besiegers retire, and leave him to descend with safety.
Chapter Seventeen.
A Cunning Cat and a Sly Old ’Possum
The place where our adventurers now encamped was in a large grove of white oaks and shell-bark hickory-trees. There was a spring near the centre of the grove, and near this spring the horses were tied, as there grew around it plenty of grass of the mezquite species. The dried meat, which formed the staple of their own provisions, had been scattered by Jeanette in her flight, and of course lost. What were they to have for dinner? This was an important question; and by way of answer to it, Basil and François took up their guns and walked out to see whether they could fall in with a squirrel or some other eatable creature. But the sun was yet high, and no squirrels could be seen – for these little creatures hide themselves during mid-day, coming out only in the mornings and evenings to feed and play.
Failing to start any game in the thick shady grove, the young hunters bethought them of making trial around its edge; and, after walking a hundred yards or so, they came near the border of the prairie. They did not show themselves suddenly, as they were in hopes they might discover deer, partridges, or some other game in – what is usually a favourite resort – the open ground along the edge of the woods. They stole silently forward, therefore, using the large tree-trunks to screen them.
The prairie was a clear one – that is, without timber-islands, only here and there a tree, and these but small ones, mostly black-jacks and shell-barks. They could see over its surface to a great extent, as it was quite level and covered with short spring buffalo-grass. No deer was upon it. Not an animal of any sort. Yes, there was. On looking more carefully, at no great distance – about two hundred yards out – they beheld two small creatures running over the sward, and at intervals squatting upon their haunches like monkeys, as if conversing with each other.
“Prairie-dogs,” suggested François.
“No,” said Basil, “they are not that, for I see no tails. The prairie-dogs have long tails.”
“What can they be, then?”
“Hares, I take it,” replied Basil, looking through his fingers.
“Hares!” ejaculated François, in some surprise. “Why, they are not bigger than rats! Do you mean that they are young hares?”
“No, indeed, full-grown hares of their species.”
“Ha! ha! ha!” laughed François. “Why, brother, what are your eyes good for? You think they are far off, don’t you? I tell you they are not two hundred yards from us, and a grey squirrel would be a giant beside them. Hares, indeed!”
“I am still of that opinion,” answered Basil, as he continued to gaze intently at the animals. “I am not certain, though. I wish Lucien were here. Perhaps he could tell us what they are.”
“Here he is, then,” said François, as the footstep of Lucien was heard behind them. “Look yonder, Luce!” continued he. “See what Basil calls a pair of full-grown hares!”
“And Basil is right,” replied Lucien, after having examined them for a moment. “They are full-grown hares.”
François looked confounded.
“If I mistake not,” continued Lucien, “they are the species known among the Indians of the prairie as the ‘little chief hare.’ They may be a different variety, though, for there are several species of these small hares found in the Rocky Mountains, and the prairies that lie around them. They are very rare. I wish we could get the skin of one. I am sure papa would prize it highly.”
“That we may soon get,” said François. “Can I not step forward, and shoot one of them?”
“No,” replied Lucien, “they would be off like the wind, before you could get within range.”
“What about Marengo? Can he not catch one?”
“I think not; besides, he would tear it in pieces. No. Our only chance is to remain here. They appear to be making this way.”
The three now took their stations behind the trunks of large trees, so as not to be observed by the timid little animals.
The latter, as they fed and sported over the grass, were still getting nearer to the edge of the grove; but as they advanced in an oblique direction, they were not likely to approach the point where the young hunters were stationed. These thought of moving farther along, so as to meet them; and were about starting to do so, when an object appeared that caused them to remain where they were.
Silently moving among the weeds and brambles, now trotting quickly behind the covering of a prostrate log, now slowly crawling over the more open ground, went a strange animal. At intervals it stopped, squatted low along the earth, and looked eagerly out upon the prairie. It did not see the young hunters. Its yellow eyes were bent upon the innocent little creatures that gambolled over the grass beyond.
It was an odd-looking animal – about the size of a terrier-dog, but, otherwise, altogether unlike one. It was of a reddish yellow colour, with brown spots upon its sides, and stripes or bands of the same along its back. These gave it the appearance of the leopard or tiger species, and it resembled these animals in the rounded, cat-like form of its head. Its erect tufted ears, however, and short tail showed that it differed, in some respects, from the tiger kind. The tail, indeed, was the oddest thing about it. It was not over five inches in length, curving stiffly upward, and looking as if it had been “stumped,” as the tails of terriers usually are. It was not so, however. Five inches was all the tail it ever had; and this shortness of tail, with the thick clumsy legs – but, above all, the high tufted ears, approaching each other at their tips, – enabled the young hunters to tell what it was —a lynx. It was that species known as the “bay lynx” (lynx rufus), commonly called in America the “wild cat,” and sometimes the “catamount.” It was the Texas variety of this animal – which is deeper in colour than the common bay lynx, and, I think, a different species. It was evidently doing its best to get near the little hares, and seize one or both of them. It knew it was not swift enough to run them down, but it might get close enough to spring upon them. It was favoured to some extent by the ground; for, although it was open prairie, the white withered grass of the previous year rose here and there over the new growth in tufts, large enough to conceal its body as it squatted.
Nearly in a direct line between the lynx and the hares grew a solitary tree, of the pecan species, with spreading limbs; and almost under it was a little patch or thicket of briars, weeds, and high grass – no doubt where some old log, or the carcass of an animal, had mouldered away, and fertilised the soil. For this the lynx was making on one side, and towards it the hares were feeding on the other.
The latter had got very near it, and near, too, to the boys, who could now distinguish their long, erect ears, slender limbs, and graceful motions – resembling, in fact, those of the common hare. Their colour, however, was different. It was a rusty fern, lighter underneath, but in no part – not even under the tail – did any white appear. It was a beautiful sight to behold these innocent little creatures, now nibbling at the blades of grass, now leaping a few feet over the sward, and then settling comically upon their haunches. The young hunters thought it a beautiful sight; and so would you, boy reader, had you witnessed the manoeuvres of these miniature hares.
An odd-looking object now presented itself directly in front of them, and close to the briars. It was of a round shape, and looked like a large clew of hair or wool of a greyish colour, half-buried in the ground. Whether it had been there before, neither Basil, nor Lucien, nor François, could tell. It might have been without their noticing it, as their attention was so occupied with the hares and the lynx. François said he had noticed it a little before; but it had only slightly arrested his attention, as he supposed it to be a tuft of the dry grass or a globe-cactus (echinocactus) – a species of which they had seen much of late, and to which it bore a considerable resemblance. It was evident, however, on closer scrutiny it was not that.
The little hares seemed to notice it about the same time; and, prompted by curiosity, they drew nearer and nearer to it. There was nothing about its appearance to alarm them. They had never been attacked by an enemy in that shape. To all appearance it had neither teeth nor claws, and consequently they had nothing to fear.
Encouraged by the absence of all danger, and vieing with each other in boldness, the little creatures advanced, first one and then the other, a few inches farther, and so on, until their noses almost touched the strange object. All at once the clew-like body flew out, displaying a sharp-snouted four-footed animal, whose long serpent-like tail, at the same instant, sweeping around caught one of the hares in its prehensile embrace! The little creature uttered a shrill squeak, while its companion bounded off in terror.
The opossum (for it was no other than an old she ’possum), now turned upon her tail; and, seizing the head of the hare in her hog-like jaws, killed it at a single “cranch.” She then released it from the coil; and, laying it out upon the grass, would have made a meal of it then and there, had she been permitted to do so. But that was not ordained to be.
The lynx, who was crouching forward, not twenty feet from the briars, had been a witness to all this. At first it seemed to give him chagrin. In a little while, however, he appeared rather to like it than otherwise.
“On second thoughts,” said he to himself, “it is better as it is. The ’possum has saved me the trouble of catching the hare, and I might have missed it withal. She has captured the game, but I shall eat it, I guess.”
These thoughts he certainly had – for they were as clearly expressed by his actions, as if he had been gifted with speech and had uttered them aloud. In accordance with them, therefore, he crept on, intending to spring upon the ’possum unawares.
The latter, however, before commencing to eat, like all who know that they have done a guilty deed, raising herself to her full height, looked around to see if any one had been a witness to the act. Her eyes fell upon the lynx; and, hastily seizing the hare in her teeth, she plunged into the bramble.
The lynx, seeing that further concealment was of no use, bounded forward with curved back and mane erect. He did not at once follow into the briars, but ran around them, in order to discover at what point the ’possum had hid herself. He was not without apprehensions that she might have a hole there. If so, good-bye to both hare and ’possum, thought he.
It appeared not, however; for, after a few circlings around the patch, he was seen to dash boldly in.
For some time nothing could be seen of either lynx or ’possum. The patch covered only a few yards of the prairie, but it was a regular “brake,” with vines, briars, and thistles, thickly interwoven and canopied with leaves. Neither uttered any noise; but the motion of the leaves, and of the brambles at different points, told that a hot pursuit was going on underneath – the pursued no doubt baffling the pursuer, by her body being much smaller and better adapted for squeezing through narrow places.
For some minutes this curious chase was kept up. Then the ’possum glided out into the open ground, to the astonishment of all still carrying the hare in her mouth. She made directly for the tree, and proceeded to climb it, grasping the trunk with her fore-arms, like a human being. Her taking to the tree also excited surprise, as it was a small one – not over thirty feet high – and the young hunters knew that the lynx could climb as well as she.
The latter now came out of the bramble; and with one bound sprang to the foot of the pecan. He did not follow up immediately, but stopped a moment to breathe himself, evidently exulting – as he knew he could easily climb after, and feeling satisfied that he now had his game safe and secure.
“Treed at last, old mother ’possum!” soliloquised he, although not aloud. “I’ll get you now, an’ if I don’t give you a good woppin’ for the trouble you’ve put me to —see if I don’t! I wouldn’t eat ye, nohow – you ain’t sweet enough for that – but I’ll eat that hare, an’ I’ll chastise you for using it so!”
And with this determination he galloped up the pecan, his claws rattling against the bark.
By this time the opossum had got near the top of the tree, and out upon one of the branches that grew horizontally. Along this the lynx followed; and had arrived almost within reach of the object of his pursuit, when the opossum, suddenly lapping the branch with her tail, let herself down to the limb below! The lynx appeared for a moment as if about to spring after; but the limb was a slender one, and he was not sure that he might be able to grasp it. He, therefore, turned back, evidently chagrined; and, descending by the main trunk, ran out upon the branch now occupied by the opossum. The latter, as before, again let herself down to another limb; and then, without waiting for her pursuer, to another still lower, until she hung on the very lowermost branch of the tree!
The boys thought she was about to drop to the ground, and endeavour to escape to the woods. That, however, was not her intention, for she knew the lynx would soon overtake her if she made the attempt. She had got into the safest situation possible, under the circumstances, and she seemed to know it. She therefore continued to hang on the lowest limb of the pecan – so near its extremity, that the branch bent under her weight. It would not have carried another ’possum – much less the heavier body of a lynx; and the latter, with the “eye of a lynx,” saw that at a glance.
Mortified as he was, however, he was determined to satisfy himself by a trial. He first crawled out upon the limb, proceeding with great caution as far as he dared venture; and then with outstretched claw endeavoured to reach the rings of her tail, thinking he might scratch them off. In this he was not successful. He could barely touch the tail with his toes; and he might just as well have tried to open the claws of an eagle. He next mounted the brands above, thinking this would bring him nearer; but he soon discovered his mistake. Again he ran out upon the limb where the opossum hung, and looked for a moment as if determined to spring down upon her, and carry her along with him to the earth; but the distance deterred him, and after a while he skulked back and squatted himself in a fork of the tree.
He did not rest long before a new thought, seemed to strike him. The ’possum was not so very high above the ground; perhaps he could spring up and seize her by the nose? It was at all events easy to make the trial. And with this intention he descended to the foot of the tree, and ran out to the spot over which she was hanging. But she was higher than he had calculated; and, like the fox with the grapes, after a few leaps he gave it up. He was resolved, however, to make her stand a siege; and, thinking he would be as comfortable where he was, he did not return to the tree, but sat down upon the grass, keeping his eyes fixed upon his antagonist.
All this while the old ’possum hung quietly upon her tail, holding the hare in her teeth. From the moment she had secured herself in her present position, she seemed to have no fear of her antagonist. On the contrary, her countenance exhibited the expression of a malicious laugh – and this was as evident to the spectators, as words could have made it. The cunning creature plainly enjoyed the chagrin she was causing to the “catamount.”
At intervals, however, the thought seemed to stray across her mind as to how it would all end: and then she assumed a graver look. The lynx, was determined – she saw that in his face – to make her stand a long siege. It would be, therefore, a question of patience and hunger. For the latter she was prepared; and, to enable her to endure it the better, she passed the hare into her hand-like fore-feet, and commenced tearing and eating it!
This was too much for the patience of the lynx. He could bear it no longer, but rose suddenly to his feet; and, with mane erect, rushed up the tree again, and out upon the branch where hung the opossum. This time, without stopping to calculate the danger, he sprang forward, throwing his fore-feet around the other’s hips, and seizing her tail in his teeth. The branch creaked, then broke, and both fell together to the earth!
For a moment the lynx seemed stunned by the fall; but, the next moment, he was “himself again.” He raised himself up; arched his back like a true cat; and, with a wild scream, pounced down upon the ’possum. He seemed to have forgotten the hare, which the other had dropped in her fall. Revenge was the passion that now raged strongest within him. Revenge caused him to forget that he was hungry.
The opossum, as soon as she came to the ground, had suddenly clewed herself up; and now presented the same appearance as when she first came upon the stage. Head, neck, limbs, and tail, were no longer visible – nothing but a round ball of thick, woolly hair! At this the catamount tugged with “teeth and toe-nails.” He worried it for not less than ten minutes, until he became weary. The ’possum was dead to all appearance; and this the other seemed to think, – or whether he did or not, at all events, he became tired, and left off worrying her. The sweeter morsel – the hare – was before his eyes; and this, perhaps, tempted him to desist, preferring to try his teeth for a while upon it. Leaving the ’possum at length, he turned round and seized upon the hare.
At this moment François let Marengo slip, and the whole party rushed forward with shouts.
The lynx, seeing his retreat cut off from the timber, struck out upon the prairie; but the great hound soon overtook him; and after a short but desperate fight, put an end to his poaching.
The young hunters in the pursuit had picked up the hare, which the lynx had dropped in his flight. When the chase was over they came back to the tree, with the intention of getting the dead ’possum, which they meant to cook for their supper. To their astonishment no ’possum was there – neither in the tree, nor the briar-patch beside it, nor anywhere! The sly creature had been “playing ’possum” throughout all that terrible worrying; and, finding the coast clear, had “unclewed” herself, and stolen off to her hiding-place under the roots of some neighbouring tree!
Nothing remained but the body of the lynx and the poor little carcass of the hare. The former none of our adventurers cared to eat, although it is often eaten both by the trappers and Indians – and the latter was so torn and chawed as to render it worthless. So, since no other game – not even a squirrel – could be found about the place, all four – Lucien, Basil, François, and Marengo, went to sleep – for the first time since the commencement of their journey —supperless!
