CHAPTER FOURTEEN.
A WILD-TURKEY HUNT.
"Come on!" cried Basil, putting the spur to his horse, and ridingforward. "Come on! It isn't so bad a case after all--a good fat turkeyfor dinner, eh? Come on!"
"Stay, brother," said Lucien, "how are we to get near them? They areout on the open ground--there is no cover."
"We don't want cover. We can `run' them as we were about to do had theybeen buffaloes."
"Ha! ha! ha!" laughed Francois; "run a turkey! Why it will fly off atonce. What nonsense you talk, brother!"
"I tell you, no," replied Basil. "It is not nonsense--it can be done--Ihave often heard so from the trappers,--now let us try it ourselves."
"Agreed, then," said Francois and Lucien at once; and all three rodeforward together.
When they had got near enough to distinguish the forms of the birds,they saw they were two old "gobblers" and a hen. The gobblers werestrutting about with their tails spread like fans, and their wingstrailing along the grass. Every now and then they uttered their loud"gobble--obble--obble," and by their attitude and actions it wasevidently an affair of rivalry likely to end in a battle. The femalestalked over the grass, in a quiet but coquettish way--no doubt fullyaware of the warm interest she was exciting in the breasts of thebelligerent gobblers. She was much smaller than either of these, andfar less brilliant in plumage. The males appeared very bright indeed--almost equal to a pair of peacocks--and as their glossy backs glanced inthe sun with metallic lustre, our hunters thought they had never beforeseen such beautiful birds.
Taken up with their own quarrel, they would no doubt have allowed thehunters to get within shooting distance of them. The female, however,was upon the alert; and seeing these draw near, she raised her head witha loud "tweet!" which attracted the attention of her companions. In amoment their spread tails closed and came to the ground, their wingswere shut up, and their long necks stretched into the air. Their formsunderwent a complete change, and they now stood erect upon the prairie,_Each of them full five feet in height_!
"Beautiful creatures!" exclaimed Lucien.
"Yes," muttered Basil. "They will not give us much longer time though.We had best make a dash. Take you the hen, Luce, your horse is theslowest. Now for it. _For-ward_!"
All three spurred their horses, and dashed forward together, Marengoleading the chase. In a moment they were within a hundred yards or soof the turkeys. The latter, thus suddenly set upon, ran a few paces,and then rose into the air, with a loud flapping of their wings. Theytook different directions, confused by being sprung in such haste. Eachof the boys had selected the one he intended pursuing; and upon that onealone his eyes became fixed. Basil and Francois followed the gobblers,while Lucien rode at a quiet gallop after the hen.
Marengo, of course, took part in the chase, joining in with Lucien--whether because he deemed the hen to be "sweeter meat," or that she waslikely to be the easiest caught of the three.
She did not fly far before coming to the ground again; when she ran withall her might for the nearest clump of timber. Hither Lucien followed,Marengo leading the way, and occasionally uttering a sonorous yelp as heran. As Lucien entered the timber, he saw the dog standing by the rootof a large oak. He had "treed" the turkey, and was looking upward withglancing eyes, barking and wagging his tail. Lucien rode cautiouslyunder the tree, where he perceived the turkey crouching among the moss,upon one of its highest branches. His rifle was up to his shoulder in amoment; and after the crack, the bird was heard tumbling and flutteringthrough the leaves. Marengo sprang upon it as it came to the ground;but his master, leaping from his horse, scolded him off, and took up thegame which was found to be quite dead.
Lucien now remounted: and, as he rode out into the open ground, he couldsee Basil far off upon the prairies. He was going at full gallop; andthe gobbler with outspread wings was seen some distance ahead of him,running like an ostrich! Both Basil and gobbler soon disappeared to hisview--lost behind one of the timber islets. Lucien looked for Francois.The latter was nowhere to be seen--having pursued his gobbler in adirection where the groves were more thickly studded over the prairie.Thinking it would be of no use to follow either of them, Lucien rodeslowly back to where Jeanette had been left upon the edge of the forest.Here he dismounted, and sat down to await the return of his brothers.
Basil's chase proved a longer one than he had expected. He had chosenthe biggest of the birds; and, no doubt, the strongest and toughest.His gobbler, at the first flight, made a clear stretch of nearly a mile;and, when he alighted again, ran like a scared cat. But Basil was notto be discouraged; and, keeping the spurs well to his horse, soon gainedupon him. The turkey again took to his wings, dropping down anotherhalf mile in the advance. Again Basil galloped up; and once more theold cock rose into the air--this time flying only about a hundred yardsbefore he alighted. Basil was soon up to him with his fleet horse; butthe gobbler was now unable to fly any farther. He could run, however,at a good rate; and where there was an uphill in the prairie he ranfaster than the horse. Downhill, the latter gained upon him; and thusthey went, until the bird began to double and circle about, showing allthe symptoms of weariness. Several times the horse ran over him, theturkey on these occasions turning and taking the back-track.
The chase was prolonged for a considerable time. The bird, at length,became completely exhausted; and squatting down, thrust his head andlong neck among the weeds, like the ostrich, thinking himself thushidden from his pursuer. Basil now drew his horse's rein, raised hislong rifle, and the next moment a bullet passed through the gobbler, andstretched him dead upon the grass.
Basil then dismounted; and, taking up the turkey, tied its legs to thecantle of his saddle. This required all Basil's strength, for the birdwas one of the largest size--a forty-pounder.
As soon as the hunter had made all fast, he leaped back into his saddle,and commenced riding--Where? Ay, that was the question which he askedhimself before his horse had advanced three lengths of his body--wherewas he going? All at once the thought came into his mind that _he waslost_! Groves of timber were on all sides of him. They were like eachother; or, if they differed, he had not in his wild gallop noted thatdifference, and it could not serve to direct him now. He had not theslightest idea of the point whence he had come, and therefore knew notin what direction to go. He saw and felt that _he was lost_!
My young reader, you cannot conceive the thoughts that come over one whois lost upon the prairies. Such a situation has appalled the stoutesthearts ere now. Strong men have trembled at feeling themselves thusalone in the wilderness; and well might they, for they knew that theconsequence has often been _death_. The shipwrecked mariner in his openboat is scarcely worse off than the lost traveller upon the prairie-sea;and many, under the circumstances, have gone mad! Fancy then thefeelings of the boy Basil.
I have already said, he was a cool and courageous lad. He was so, andproved it now. He did not lose presence of mind. He reined in hishorse, and surveyed the prairie around him with an intelligent eye. Itwas all to no purpose. He saw nothing that would give him a clue to thespot where he had separated from his brothers. He shouted aloud, butthere was neither echo nor answer. He fired off his rifle, andlistened--thinking Lucien or Francois might reply by a similar signal;but no such signal gratified his ear. He reloaded, and sat for a whilein his saddle, buried in thought.
"Ha! I have it!" he exclaimed, suddenly raising himself in hisstirrups, "Why was I so stupid? Come, Black Hawk! we are not lost yet!"
Basil had not been all his life a hunter for nothing; and although hehad but little experience upon the prairies, his wood craft now stoodhim in stead. The thought which had so suddenly occurred to him was agood one, the only one that could with certainty save him. He hadresolved to _return upon his own tracks_.
He wheeled his horse; and, with eyes bent upon the ground, rode slowlyalong. The turf was firm, and the hoof-marks were not deep; but Basilhad a hunter's ey
e, and could follow the track of a fawn. In a fewminutes he arrived on the spot where he had killed the turkey. Theblood and feathers upon the grass made him sure of this. Here he halteda moment, until he could determine the direction in which he hadapproached this spot. That was at length resolved to his satisfaction;and he rode slowly in the back-track. After a few lengths of his horsehad been passed over, the trail doubled. Basil followed the double, andcame back, passing almost over the same ground again. Again it doubledas before, and again and again, without going a hundred yards from theplace where the bird had been shot. All these turnings the young hunterretraced with the greatest care and patience. In this he showed hisjudgment and his knowledge of hunter-craft; for, had he grown impatientand taken a wider range to find the trail, he might have fallen upon hislast-made tracks, and thus have brought himself into a regular maze.
After a while the circles in which he travelled became larger; and, tohis great joy, he at length found himself advancing in a straight line.Many horse-tracks crossed his trail; some of them nearly as fresh as hisown. These did not baffle him. They were the tracks of mustangs; andalthough Black Hawk was not shod any more than they, his rider knew theprint of the latter's hoof as well as he knew the appearance of his ownrifle. The Arab's track was considerably larger than those of the wildhorses.
After following the trail backward for nearly an hour,--his eyes all thetime bent upon the ground,--he was suddenly startled by a voice callinghim by name. He looked up, and beheld Lucien by the edge of the woods.With a shout of joy he plied the spur and rode forward. As he drewnear, however, his feeling of joy became one of painful apprehension.There was Lucien,--there were Jeanette and Marengo,--_but where wasFrancois_?
"Where is Francois?" inquired Lucien, as Basil rode up.
The latter could hardly speak, so strong were his emotions.
"O brother!" he faltered out at length, "has Francois not returned?"
"No," answered Lucien, "I was thinking he was with you, and you wouldcome back together. I have been wondering what could have detained youso long."
"O God, he is lost!" cried Basil, breaking into an agony of grief."Lucien! Lucien! our brother is lost!"
"Lost! what mean you?" asked Lucien, half believing that Francois hadbeen attacked by Indians, or some wild animal, and that that was whatBasil meant. "Has anything happened to him? Speak, Basil!"
"No, no!" replied Basil, still speaking wildly, "lost on the prairie! Obrother, you know not what it is--it is a fearful thing. I have beenlost,--I have got back; but Francois, poor little Francois! there is nohope for him! he is lost--lost!"
"But have you not seen him since we all three parted?" inquired Lucienin dismay.
"No, not since we parted. I was myself lost, and have been all thistime finding my way. I succeeded by following back my own trail, elsewe might never have met again. O Francois! poor brother Francois! whatwill become of _him_?"
Lucien now shared the apprehensions as well as the agony of his brother.Up to this time he had been under the impression that they had gottogether, and something had detained them--perhaps the breaking of astirrup-leather or a girth, he knew not what--and he was just beginningto grow uneasy when Basil made his appearance. He knew not what it wasto be lost; but Basil's wild explanations enabled him to conceive whatit _might be_; and he could well appreciate the situation of Francois.It was no time, however, to indulge in paroxysms of grief. He saw thatBasil was half unmanned; the more so because the latter looked uponhimself as the cause of the misfortune. It was Basil who had counselledthe running of the turkeys and led on to the chase.
Instead of giving way to despair, however, both felt that they must takesome steps for the recovery of their lost brother.
"What is to be done?" said Lucien.
Basil now became himself again. The hope of saving Francois restoredhim to his wonted energy and courage.
"Is it better we should remain here?" asked Lucien, who knew that hisbrother's strong judgment would decide upon the best plan.
"No," replied the latter; "it is of no use. _I_ could not have found myway back, but for the tracks of my horse. Francois will not think ofthat; and even if he did, _his_ horse is a _mustang_, and the prairie iscovered with mustang tracks, running in every direction. No, no, hewill never come back here, except by chance; and there are a thousandchances to one against it. No, we must go in search of him; we must goupon his trail; and that I fear will be impossible among so many others.Before we leave this place," continued Basil, "let us try every chancethat is left. Are you loaded?"
"Yes," replied Lucien.
"Fire, then, a moment or two after I do. The first report may call hisattention to the second."
Basil raised his piece and fired into the air. A few seconds after,Lucien fired also, and both stood to listen, their hearts beatingaudibly.
For five minutes or more they stood--so that Francois might have time toload his gun, if empty. There was no response.
Again the brothers loaded their rifles--with powder only--putting inheavy charges and ramming home tightly, in order that the explosionsmight be the louder. Again they fired as before. The result was thesame; there was no answer to their signal.
"It proves that he is very distant," said Lucien, "for sounds can beheard a great way off in this region."
"Let us try a smoke," said Basil, putting away his rifle. "Gather somewood, Luce, while I kindle the leaves."
Basil picked up some pieces of the burning wad; and having taken it outto the open ground, raked together a pile of dry leaves and grass, andignited it. Meanwhile Lucien collected an armful of sticks, and placedthem upon the pile. Others were then thrown on top, with green leavesand boughs broken from the trees, and, over all, several armfuls ofSpanish moss which hung plentifully from the oaks. A thick blue smokesoon ascended high into the heavens; and the brothers stood withsearching eyes that scrutinised the prairie in all directions.
"He must be far off if he cannot see that," remarked Lucien. "It shouldbe visible for ten miles around, I should think!"
"At least that much," answered Basil; "but he would not be long ingetting ten miles away. The chase might have carried him a good part;and, finding himself lost, he would soon gallop the rest."
"Unless," suggested Lucien, "he may have ridden about, as you did, uponhis own trail."
"No, he would not be likely. Poor little Francois would not think ofit; he has not enough craft for that; and, indeed, I almost hope that hehas not done so."
"Why do you hope so?" inquired Lucien.
"Because we will stand a better chance of making out his trail if he hasgone straight forward."
"True, true," rejoined Lucien, and both again were silent, and stoodwatching the prairie openings with anxious eyes.
They remained for a considerable time, but at length turned to eachother with countenances that exhibited a disappointed and sadexpression.
"He is not coming," said Lucien, in a sorrowful tone.
"No; he would have been up long since. He would be certain to gallop ifhe had seen the smoke. We must go after him."
They turned towards their horses. Basil's glance fell upon the dog. Agleam of joy shot into his eye, and big whole bearing became suddenlychanged.
"Ha!" he exclaimed, "we have been wasting time. Quick, Lucien!--yourhorse! to your horse!"
"What is it?" asked Lucien in surprise.
"Do not ask me--a good thought strikes me; but we have not a moment tolose--time is precious. Let us be off!"
"But shall we leave Jeanette?"
"By all means. Francois _might_ come up."
"If he should, how is he to know where we are gone?"
"True," answered Basil, reflecting a moment. "Oh!" he continued, "giveme your paper and pencil. You tie Jeanette while I write."
Lucien handed him a small slip of paper with a pencil; and thenproceeded to tie the mule securely to one of the branches.
Basil took the paper an
d wrote:--
"_Francois, we are gone upon your trail. Stay by Jeanette_."
He fastened the paper conspicuously to the trunk of a tree; and then,seizing his rifle and leaping into the saddle, called upon Lucien tofollow him.
Lucien mounted, and rode after, while the dog Marengo trotted in therear.