Chapter 18

"Let's have a look. No, nothin' to speak o', be

good luck. Ye should niver go slap through a badger

country like that, boy; always keep i' the bottoms, where

the grass is short. Now then, up ye go. That's it!"

Dick remounted, though not with quite so elastic a

spring as usual, and they pushed forward at a more

reasonable pace.

Accidents of this kind are of common occurrence in

the prairies. Some horses, however, are so well trained

that they look sharp out for these holes, which are generally

found to be most numerous on the high and dry

grounds. But in spite of all the caution both of man

and horse many ugly falls take place, and sometimes

bones are broken.

They had not gone far after this accident when an

antelope leaped from a clump of willows, and made for

a belt of woodland that lay along the margin of a stream

not half-a-mile off.

"Hurrah!" cried Dick, forgetting his recent fall.

"Come along, Crusoe." And away they went again

full tilt, for the horse had not been injured by its

somersault.

The antelope which Dick was thus wildly pursuing

was of the same species as the one he had shot some

time before--namely, the prong-horned antelope. These

graceful creatures have long, slender limbs, delicately-formed

heads, and large, beautiful eyes. The horns are

black, and rather short; they have no branches, like

the antlers of the red-deer, but have a single projection

on each horn, near the head, and the extreme points

of the horns curve suddenly inwards, forming the

hook or prong from which the name of the animal

is derived. Their colour is dark yellowish brown.

They are so fleet that not one horse in a hundred

can overtake them; and their sight and sense of smell

are so acute that it would be next to impossible to kill

them, were it not for the inordinate curiosity which

we have before referred to. The Indians manage to

attract these simple little creatures by merely lying

down on their backs and kicking their heels in the air,

or by waving any white object on the point of an arrow,

while the hunter keeps concealed by lying flat in the

grass. By these means a herd of antelopes may be

induced to wheel round and round an object in timid

but intense surprise, gradually approaching until they

come near enough to enable the hunter to make sure of

his mark. Thus the animals, which of all others

ought

to be the most difficult to slay, are, in consequence of

their insatiable curiosity, more easily shot than any other

deer of the plains.

May we not gently suggest to the reader for his or

her consideration that there are human antelopes, so to

speak, whose case bears a striking resemblance to the

prong-horn of the North American prairie?

Dick's horse was no match for the antelope, neither

was Crusoe; so they pulled up shortly and returned to

their companions, to be laughed at.

"It's no manner o' use to wind yer horse, lad, after

sich game. They're not much worth, an', if I mistake

not, we'll be among the buffalo soon. There's fresh

tracks everywhere, and the herds are scattered now. Ye

see, when they keep together in bands o' thousands ye

don't so often fall in wi' them. But when they scatters

about in twos, an' threes, an' sixes ye may shoot them

every day as much as ye please."

Several groups of buffalo had already been seen on

the horizon, but as a red-deer had been shot in a belt

of woodland the day before they did not pursue them.

The red-deer is very much larger than the prong-horned

antelope, and is highly esteemed both for its flesh and

its skin, which latter becomes almost like chamois

leather when dressed. Notwithstanding this supply of

food, the hunters could not resist the temptation to give

chase to a herd of about nine buffaloes that suddenly

came into view as they overtopped an undulation in the

plain.

"It's no use," cried Dick, "I

must

go at them!"

Joe himself caught fire from the spirit of his young

friend, so calling to Henri to come on and let the pack-horse

remain to feed, he dashed away in pursuit. The

buffaloes gave one stare of surprise, and then fled as fast

as possible. At first it seemed as if such huge, unwieldy

carcasses could not run very fast; but in a few

minutes they managed to get up a pace that put the

horses to their mettle. Indeed, at first it seemed as if

the hunters did not gain an inch; but by degrees they

closed with them, for buffaloes are not long winded.

On nearing the herd, the three men diverged from

each other and selected their animals. Henri, being

short-sighted, naturally singled out the largest; and the

largest--also naturally--was a tough old bull. Joe

brought down a fat young cow at the first shot, and

Dick was equally fortunate. But he well-nigh shot

Crusoe, who, just as he was about to fire, rushed in unexpectedly

and sprang at the animal's throat, for which

piece of recklessness he was ordered back to watch the

pack-horse.

Meanwhile, Henri, by dint of yelling, throwing his

arms wildly about, and digging his heels into the sides

of his long-legged horse, succeeded in coming close up

with the bull, which once or twice turned his clumsy

body half round and glared furiously at its pursuer

with its small black eyes. Suddenly it stuck out its

tail, stopped short, and turned full round. Henri stopped

short also. Now, the sticking out of a buffalo's tail has

a peculiar significance which it is well to point out. It

serves, in a sense, the same purpose to the hunter that

the compass does to the mariner--it points out where to

go and what to do. When galloping away in ordinary

flight, the buffalo carries his tail like ordinary cattle,

which indicates that you may push on. When wounded,

he lashes it from side to side, or carries it over his back,

up in the air; this indicates, "Look out! haul off a

bit!" But when he carries it stiff and horizontal, with

a

slight curve

in the middle of it, it says plainly, "Keep

back, or kill me as quick as you can," for that is what

Indians call the

mad tail

, and is a sign that mischief is

brewing.

Henri's bull displayed the mad tail just before turning,

but he didn't observe it, and, accordingly, waited for the

bull to move and show his shoulder for a favourable

shot. But instead of doing this he put his head down,

and, foaming with rage, went at him full tilt. The big

horse never stirred; it seemed to be petrified, Henri

had just time to fire at the monster's neck, and the next

moment was sprawling on his back, with the horse rolling

over four or five yards beyond him. It was a most

effective tableau--Henri rubbing his shins and grinning

with pain, the horse gazing in affright as he rose trembling

from the plain, and the buffalo bull looking on

half stunned, and evidently very much surprised at the

result of his charge.

Fortunately, before he could repeat the experiment,

Dick galloped up and put a ball through his heart.

Joe and his comrades felt a little ashamed of their

exploit on this occasion, for there was no need to have

killed three animals--they could not have carried with

them more than a small portion of one--and they upbraided

themselves several times during the operation of

cutting out the tongues and other choice portions of the

two victims. As for the bull, he was almost totally

useless, so they left him as a gift to the wolves.

Now that they had come among the buffalo, wolves

were often seen sneaking about and licking their hungry

jaws; but although they approached pretty near to the

camp at nights, they did not give the hunters any concern.

Even Crusoe became accustomed to them at last,

and ceased to notice them. These creatures are very

dangerous sometimes, however, and when hard pressed

by hunger will even attack man. The day after this

hunt the travellers came upon a wounded old buffalo

which had evidently escaped from the Indians (for a

couple of arrows were sticking in its side), only to fall

a prey to his deadly enemies, the white wolves. These

savage brutes hang on the skirts of the herds of buffaloes

to attack and devour any one that may chance, from

old age or from being wounded, to linger behind the rest.

The buffalo is tough and fierce, however, and fights so

desperately that, although surrounded by fifty or a

hundred wolves, he keeps up the unequal combat for

several days before he finally succumbs.

The old bull that our travellers discovered had evidently

been long engaged with his ferocious adversaries,

for his limbs and flesh were torn in shreds in

many places, and blood was streaming from his sides.

Yet he had fought so gallantly that he had tossed and

stamped to death dozens of the enemy. There could

not have been fewer than fifty wolves round him; and

they had just concluded another of many futile attacks

when the hunters came up, for they were ranged in a

circle round their huge adversary--some lying down,

some sitting on their haunches to rest, and others sneaking

about, lolling out their red tongues and licking their

chops as if impatient to renew the combat. The poor

buffalo was nearly spent, and it was clear that a few

hours more would see him torn to shreds and his bones

picked clean.

"Ugh! de brutes," ejaculated Henri.

"They don't seem to mind us a bit," remarked Dick,

as they rode up to within pistol shot.

"It'll be merciful to give the old fellow a shot," said

Joe. "Them varmints are sure to finish him at last."

Joe raised his rifle as he spoke, and fired. The old

bull gave his last groan and fell, while the wolves,

alarmed by the shot, fled in all directions; but they did

not run far. They knew well that some portion, at

least, of the carcass would fall to their share; so they

sat down at various distances all round, to wait as

patiently as they might for the hunters to retire. Dick

left the scene with a feeling of regret that the villanous

wolves should have their feast so much sooner than they

expected.

Yet, after all, why should we call these wolves villanous?

They did nothing wrong--nothing contrary to

the laws of their peculiar nature. Nay, if we come to

reason upon it, they rank higher in this matter than

man; for while the wolf does no violence to the laws of

its instincts, man often deliberately silences the voice of

conscience, and violates the laws of his own nature.

But we will not insist on the term, good reader, if you

object strongly to it. We are willing to admit that the

wolves are

not

villanous, but,

assuredly

, they are

unlovable.

In the course of the afternoon the three horsemen

reached a small creek, the banks of which were lined

with a few stunted shrubs and trees. Having eaten

nothing since the night before, they dismounted here to

"feed," as Joe expressed it.

"Cur'ous thing," remarked Joe, as he struck a light

by means of flint, steel, and tinder-box--"cur'ous thing

that we're made to need sich a lot o' grub. If we could

only get on like the sarpints, now, wot can breakfast on

a rabbit, and then wait a month or two for dinner!

Ain't it cur'ous?"

Dick admitted that it was, and stooped to blow the

fire into a blaze.

Here Henri uttered a cry of consternation, and stood

speechless, with his mouth open.

"What's the matter? what is't?" cried Dick and Joe,

seizing their rifles instinctively.

"De--grub--him--be--forgat!"

There was a look of blank horror, and then a burst

of laughter from Dick Varley. "Well, well," cried he,

"we've got lots o' tea an' sugar, an' some flour; we can

git on wi' that till we shoot another buffalo, or a--ha!"

Dick observed a wild turkey stalking among the

willows as he spoke. It was fully a hundred yards off,

and only its head was seen above the leaves. This was

a matter of little moment, however, for by aiming a

little lower he knew that he must hit the body. But

Dick had driven the nail too often to aim at its body;

he aimed at the bird's eye, and cut its head off.

"Fetch it, Crusoe."

In three minutes it was at Dick's feet, and it is not

too much to say that in five minutes more it was in the

pot.

As this unexpected supply made up for the loss of the

meat which Henri had forgotten at their last halting-place,


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