CHAPTER TWENTY TWO.
THE LONE MOUND.
Their route led them through one of those lovely landscapes which aremet with only in this southern region--_a flower-prairie_. Theytravelled in the midst of flowers. Flowers were before them, behind,and on every side. Their shining corollas covered the prairie as far asthe eye could see. There were golden sunflowers (_helianthi_), and redmalvas, euphorbias, and purple lupins. There were the rose-colouredblossoms of the wild althea, and the brilliant orange of Californianpoppies--glancing among the green leaves like so many balls of fire--while lower upon the surface grew the humble violas, sparkling likeazure gems.
The glorious sun was shining over all; and the late rain that had washedthem seemed to have added to the fragrance and brilliancy. Millions ofbutterflies flew over them, or rested in their soft cups, not lessbrilliant than the flowers themselves. Some of these were of vastdimensions, their downy wings speckled and striped with varied andgorgeous tints. There were other insects of gay colours and glancingwings. The giant spider-fly flew around, now poised on whirring wing,and now darting off like a thread of lightning to some other part of theboundless garden. There were bees, too; and bee-birds humming fromflower to flower, and robbing their rich nectaries. Now and thenpartridges and ruffed grouse whirred up before the horses; and Francoissucceeded in shooting a brace of the latter, and hanging them behind hissaddle.
Through these great flower-beds our travellers rode on, crushing many abeautiful corolla under their horses' hoofs. Sometimes the flowers grewupon tall stalks that stood thickly together, and reached up to theshoulders of the horses, completely hiding them from the view of one ata distance. Sometimes the travellers passed through beds of helianthialone--whose large heads, brushing against their thighs, covered themwith yellow pollen-dust.
It was, altogether, a rare and beautiful landscape; and the younghunters would have enjoyed it much, had they not been suffering fromweariness and want of sleep. The fragrance of the flowers seemed atfirst to refresh them; but after a while they became sensible of anarcotic influence which it exercised over them, as they felt moresleepy than ever. They would have encamped among them, but there was nowater; and without water they could not remain. There was no grass,either, for their animals; as, strange to say, upon theseflower-prairies grass is seldom met with. The flower-stalks usurp thesoil, and no turf is ever found about their roots. The travellers,therefore, were compelled to ride on, until they should reach some spothaving grass and water--two of the necessary requisites of a"night-camp."
After proceeding about ten miles the flowers began to appear more thinlyscattered over the surface, and at length declined into the _grass_prairie. Two or three miles farther brought our adventurers to a small"spring branch" that ran through the open plain, with no timber upon itsbanks, except a few willows. Here they were glad to halt for the night,and they dismounted, and staked their animals upon the tempting sward.
All three were weary, and could have slept; but they were hungry aswell, and must first eat--so they set about preparing supper. Thewillows were green, and would not burn very well; but by dint ofperseverance they managed to make a fire. Francois' grouse were plungedinto the kettle. These, seasoned with wild onions, nasturtium, andprairie-turnips--which Lucien had gathered along the route,--made a dishthat was far from unpalatable. The stock of bear-meat was not touched--with the exception of a small piece, which, with the heads and otherrefuse parts of the grouse, formed the supper of Marengo. As soon asthey had finished eating, the hunters spread their buffalo-robes uponthe grass; and, drawing their blankets over them, went off into a soundsleep.
This night they were not disturbed. When awake they could hear thehowling of wolves upon the distant prairie, and near their camp. Butthey were used to this serenading music, and did not regard it. Allthree slept soundly throughout the live-long night.
They were awake by grey dawn, and felt quite refreshed. They wateredtheir horses, and prepared their breakfast of jerked bear-meat. This isnot bad eating at any time; but to appetites like theirs it was a luxuryindeed; and they broke their fast cleverly enough--eating nearly a pounda-piece. They all felt quite merry and jocund. Marengo was merry,though the claws of the cougar had scored his countenance sadly.Jeanette, too, frisked about, kicking at the flies as she fed. Basilhad given her shanks a fresh touch of the bear's grease; and the scarswhich the cougar had made were likely to cicatrise speedily. Theyremained all next day by that sweet spring, and enjoyed another night ofundisturbed rest. On the second morning they continued their journey,and in a few days reached the "Cross Timbers,"--those celebrated grovesthat have so long puzzled the speculations of the curious naturalist.Our travellers did not remain long by them--as they saw no signs of thebuffalo--but kept still farther to the west, crossing the head-waters ofnumerous streams that run into the river Brazos.
About the third day, after leaving the Cross Timbers, they encamped onone of these streams--a very small one--that meandered through theprairie, without any timber upon its banks. But our travellers did notfeel the want of this, as they could make their fire out of an article--the sight of which had been gladdening their eyes during the whole ofthat day's journey. It was the _bois de vache_, or buffalo "chips," asit is called by the trappers; and they knew that where this was found,the buffaloes themselves would not be far off. They had now got withinthe _range_ of these animals; and might expect to fall in with them atany moment.
As soon as the next day dawned, the eyes of our hunters sought theprairie, but as yet no buffaloes were in sight. Nothing could be seenbut the green treeless plain, stretching on all sides as if to the verysky. Only one object could be observed that gave a variety to theaspect around. This was an eminence that rose over the sea-like surfaceof the prairie--called in the language of the hunters, a "butte." Itappeared ten miles distant, at least; and seemed to stand alone, itssteep sides rising like cliffs above the prairie level. It lay in thecourse they had hitherto been travelling.
"Shall we make for it?" asked they of one another.
"What better can we do?" said Basil. "We are as likely to meet thebuffalo in that direction as in any other. We have no guide now; so wemust trust to our good fortune to lead us to them, or them to us--whichis about the same thing, I fancy."
"Oh! let us `catch up,'" advised Francois, "and ride for the butte. Wemay find buffalo near it."
"But what if we find no water?" suggested the ever-prudent Lucien.
"That is not likely," returned Francois. "I'll warrant there's water--there generally is where there are mountains, I believe; and yonderbutte might almost be called a mountain. I'll warrant there's water."
"If there's not," added Basil, "we can return here."
"But, brothers," said Lucien, "you know not the distance of thateminence."
"Ten miles, I should think," said Basil.
"Not more, certainly," added Francois.
"It is thirty, if an inch," quietly remarked Lucien.
"Thirty!" exclaimed the others; "thirty miles! You are jesting, are younot? Why, I could almost lay my hand upon it!"
"That is a misconception of yours," rejoined the philosopher. "You areboth calculating distances, as you would in the low dense atmosphere ofLouisiana. Remember you are now four thousand feet above the level ofthe sea, and surrounded by one of the purest and most translucentatmospheres in the world. Objects can be seen double the distance thatyou could see them on the banks of the Mississippi. That butte, whichyou think is only ten miles off, appears to me fifteen, or rather more;and I therefore calculate that it is at least thirty miles distant fromthe spot where we now are."
"Impossible!" exclaimed Basil, eyeing the butte. "Why, I can see theseams of the rocks on its sides, and trees, I fancy, growing upon itstop."
"Well," continued Lucien, "with all that you'll find I am not far fromthe mark. But let us strike for it, since you wish it. We shall meetwith water there, I suppose; take notice, however,
--we'll have to_journey all day before reaching it_; and we may consider ourselvesfortunate if we get there before night-fall."
Lucien's prudence was not too great. On the contrary, it was not evensufficient for the occasion. This arose from his want of experience onthe prairies. If either he or his brothers had had a little more ofthis, they would have hesitated before striking out so boldly, andleaving the water behind them. They would have known that, to make along journey, without the certainty of finding water at the end of it,is a risk that even the old hunters themselves will seldom undertake.These, from experience, well know the danger of being without water onthe prairies. They dread it more than grizzly bears, or panthers, orwolverines, or even hostile Indians. The fear of thirst is to them thegreatest of all terrors.
Our young hunters felt but little of this fear. It is true they had,all of them, heard or read of the sufferings that prairie travellerssometimes endure from want of water. But people who live snugly athome, surrounded by springs, and wells, and streams, with cisterns, andreservoirs, and pipes, and hydrants, and jets, and fountains, playing atall times around them, are prone to underrate these sufferings; in fact,too prone, might I not say, to discredit everything that does not comeunder the sphere of their own observation? They will readily believethat their cat can open a door-latch, and their pig can be taught toplay cards, and that their dog can do wonderful things, savouring ofsomething more than instinct. But these same people will shake theirheads incredulously, when I tell them that the opossum saves herselffrom an enemy by hanging suspended to the tree-branch by her tail, orthat the big-horn will leap from a precipice lighting upon his horns, orthat the red monkeys can bridge a stream by joining themselves to oneanother by their tails.
"Oh! nonsense!" they exclaim; "these things are too strange to be true."And yet, when compared with the _tricks_ their cat and dog can play,and even the little canary that flits about the drawing-room, do theyseem either strange or improbable? The absent and distant are alwaysregarded with wonder and incredulity; while familiar facts, inthemselves far more wonderful, neither excite curiosity nor challengecredulity. Who now regards the startling phenomenon of the electricwire otherwise than as a simple truth easily comprehended? And yetthere was a time--ah! there was a time--when to have proclaimed thistruth would have rendered you or me ridiculous. There was a time,indeed, when it might have cost us our lives or our liberties. RememberGalileo!
I was saying, then, that people who live at home do not know _whatthirst is_; for _home_ is a place where there is always water. Theycannot comprehend what it is to be in the desert without this necessaryelement. Ha! _I_ know it; and I give you my word for it, it is afearful thing.
Our young hunters had but a faint idea of its terrors. Hitherto theirroute had been through a well-watered region--scarcely ever running tenor a dozen miles without crossing some stream with timber upon it, whichthey could see a long way off, and thus guide themselves to the water;but they little understood the nature of the country that was now beforethem. They knew not that they were entering upon the desert plains--those vast arid steppes that slope up to the foots of the RockyMountains--the Cordilleras of the Northern Andes.
Francois, rash and impetuous, never dreamt of danger: Basil, courageous,did not fear it: Lucien had some misgivings, because he had heard orread more of it than the others. All, however, were curious to visitthe strange, mound-looking eminence _that_ rose out of the plain. Thiswas quite natural. Even the rude savage and the matter-of-fact trapperoften diverge from their course, impelled by a similar curiosity.
The horses were watered and saddled; Jeanette was packed; thewater-gourds were filled; and our adventurers, having mounted, rodeforward for the "butte."