CHAPTER THIRTY FIVE.
UNEXPECTED GUESTS.
We found Ike and Redwood bitterly angry at the bull they had slain.They alleged that he had made a rush at them in coming up, and that waswhy they had risen to their feet and fired upon him. We thought suchhad been the case, as we had noticed a strange manoeuvre on the part ofthe bull. But for that, our guides believed they would have succeededto their hearts' content; as they intended first to have shot the otherbull, and then the cows would have remained until all had fallen.
A place was now selected for our night-camp, and the meat from the cowsbrought in and dressed. Over a fire of cotton-wood logs we soon cookedthe most splendid supper we had eaten for a long time.
The beef of the wild buffalo-cow is far superior to that of domesticcattle, but the "tit-bits" of the same animal are luxuries never to beforgotten. Whether it be that a prairie appetite lends something to therelish is a question. This I will not venture to deny; but certainlythe "baron of beef" in merry old England has no souvenirs to me so sweetas a roast rib of "fat cow," cooked over a cotton-wood fire, and eatenin the open air, under the pure sky of the prairies.
The place where we had pitched our camp was upon the banks of a verysmall spring-stream, or creek, that, rising near at hand, meanderedthrough the prairie to a not distant branch of the Arkansas River.Where we were, this creek was embanked very slightly; but, at about twohundred yards' distance, on each side, there was a range of bluffs thatfollowed the direction of the stream. These bluffs were not very high,but sufficiently so to prevent any one down in the creek bottom fromhaving a view of the prairie level. As the bottom itself was coveredwith very coarse herbage, and as a better grass--the buffalo--grew onthe prairie above, we there picketed our horses, intending to bring themcloser to the camp when night set in, or before going to sleep. Thecamp itself--that is the two tents, with Jake's waggon--were on the veryedge of the stream; but Jake's mules were up on the plain, along withthe rest of the _cavallada_.
It was still two hours before sunset. We had made our dinner, and,satisfied with the day's sport, were enjoying ourselves with a littlebrandy, that still held out in our good-sized keg, and a smoke. We hadreviewed the incidents of the day, and were laying out our plans for themorrow. We were admonished by the coldness of the evening that winterwas not far off, and we all agreed that another week was as long as wecould safely remain upon the prairies. We had started late in theseason, but our not finding the buffalo farther to the east had made agreat inroad upon our time, and spoiled all our calculations. Now thatwe had found them, a week was as much as we could allow for their hunt.Already frost appeared in the night hours, and made us uncomfortableenough, and we knew that in the prairie region the transition fromautumn to winter is often sudden and unexpected.
The oldest and wisest of the party were of the opinion that we shouldnot delay our return longer than a week, and the others assented to it.The guides gave the same advice, although these cared little aboutwintering on the prairie, and were willing to remain as long as wepleased. We knew, however, that the hardships to which we should besubjected would not be relished by several of the party, and it would bebetter for all to get back to the settlements before the setting in ofsevere weather.
I have said we were all in high spirits. A week's hunting, withsomething to do at it every day, would satisfy us. We should do immenseslaughter on the buffalo, by approaching, running, and surrounding them.We should collect a quantity of the best meat, jerk and dry it over thefire, load our waggon with that, and with a large number of robes andhorns as trophies, should go back in triumph to the settlements. Suchwere our pleasant anticipations.
I am sorry to say that these anticipations were never realised--not oneof them. When we reached the nearest settlement, which happened, aboutsix weeks after, our party presented an appearance that differed as muchfrom a triumphal procession as could well be imagined. One and all ofus were afoot. One and all of us--even to the fat little doctor--wereemaciated, ragged, foot-sore, frost-bitten, and little better than halfalive. We had a number of buffalo-skins with us it is true, but thesehung about our shoulders, and were for use, and not show. They hadserved us for weeks for beds and blankets by night, and for great coatsunder the fierce winter rains. But I anticipate. Let us return to ourcamp on the little creek.
I have said that we sat around the blazing fire discussing our futureplans, and enjoying the future by anticipation. The hours passedrapidly on, and while thus engaged night came down upon us.
At this time some one advised that we should bring up the horses, butanother said it would be as well to let them browse a while longer, asthe grass where they were was good, and they had been for some days onshort commons. "They will be safe enough," said this speaker. "We haveseen no Indian sign, or if any of you think there is danger, let someone go up to the bluff, but by all means let the poor brutes have a goodmeal of it."
This proposal was accepted. Lanty was despatched to stand guard overthe horses, while the rest of us remained by the fire conversing asbefore.
The Irishman could scarcely have had time to get among the animals, whenour ears were saluted by a medley of sounds that sent the blood to ourhearts, and caused us to leap simultaneously from the fire.
The yells of Indians were easily understood, even by the "greenest" ofour party, and these, mingled with the neighing of horses, the prancingof hoofs, and the shouts of our guard, were the sounds that readied us.
"Injuns, by God!" cried Ike, springing up, and clutching his long rifle.
This wild exclamation was echoed by more than one, as each leaped backfrom the fire and ran to his gun.
In a few seconds we had cleared the brushwood that thickly covered thebottom, and climbed out on the bluff. Here we were met by the terrifiedguard, who was running back at the top of his speed, and bellowing atthe top of his voice.
"Och, murther!" cried he, "the savage bastes--there's a thousand ovthim! They've carried off the cattle--every leg--mules an' all, byJaysus!"
Rough as was this announcement, we soon became satisfied that it was buttoo true. On reaching the place where the _cavallada_ had beenpicketed, we found not the semblance of a horse. Even the pins weredrawn, and the _lazoes_ taken along. Far off on the prairie we coulddiscern dimly a dark mass of mounted men, and we could plainly heartheir triumphant shouts and laughter, as they disappeared in thedistance!
We never saw either them or our horses again.
They were a party of Pawnees, as we afterwards learned, and no doubt hadthey attacked us, we should have suffered severely; but there were onlya few of them, and they were satisfied with plundering us of our horses.It is just possible that after securing them they might have returnedto attack us, had not Lanty surprised them at their work. After thealarm they knew we would be on the look-out for them, and therefore werecontented to carry off our animals.
It is difficult to explain the change that thus so suddenly occurred inour feelings and circumstances. The prospect before us--thus set afootupon the prairie at such a distance from the settlements, and at such aseason--was perfectly appalling. We should have to walk every inch ofthe way--carry our food, and everything else, upon our backs. Perhapswe might not be too much burdened with food. That depended upon veryprecarious circumstances--upon our hunting luck. Our "stock" in thewaggon was reduced to only a few days' rations, and of course would gobut a few days with us, while we had many to provide for.
These thoughts were after-reflections--thoughts of the next morning.During that night we thought only of the Indians, for of course we didnot as yet believe they had left us for good. We did not return tosleep by the fire--that would have been very foolishness. Some wentback to get their arms in order, and then returning we all lay along theedge of the bluff, where the path led into the bottom, and watched theprairie until the morning. We lay in silence, or only muttering ourthoughts to one another.
I have said until the morning. That is not strictly
true, for beforethe morning that succeeded that _noche triste_ broke upon us, anothercruel misfortune befel us, which still farther narrowed thecircumstances that surrounded us. I have already stated that theherbage of the creek bottom was coarse. It consisted of long grass,interspersed with briars and bunches of wild pea vines, with here andthere a growth of scrubby wood. It was difficult to get through it,except by paths made by the buffalo and other animals. At this seasonof the year the thick growth of annuals was now a mass of witheredstems, parched by the hot suns of autumn until they were as dry astinder.
While engaged in our anxious vigil upon the plain above, we had notgiven a thought either to our camp or the large fire we had left there.
All at once our attention was directed to the latter by a loud cracklingnoise that sounded in our ears. We sprang to our feet, and looked intothe valley behind us. The camp was on fire!
The brush was kindled all around it, and blazed to the height of severalfeet. We could see the blaze reflected from the white canvas both ofwaggon and tents, and in a few seconds these were licked into the hotflames, and disappeared from our view.
Of course we made no effort to save them. That would have been an idleand foolish attempt. We could not have approached the spot, without thealmost certain danger of death. Already while we gazed, the fire spreadover the whole creek bottom, and passed rapidly both up and down thebanks of the stream.
For ourselves there was no danger. We were up on the open prairiecovered only with short grass. Had this caught also, we knew how tosave ourselves; but the upper level, separated by a steep bluff, was notreached by the conflagration that raged so fiercely below.
We stood watching the flames for a long while, until daylight broke.The bottom, near where we were, had ceased to burn, and now lay beneathus, smoking, smouldering, and black. We descended, and picked our stepsto where our camp had stood. The tents were like black cerements. Theiron work of the waggon alone remained, our extra clothing andprovisions were all consumed. Even the produce of our yesterday's huntlay among the ashes a charred and ruined mass!