The Dog Crusoe and His Master: A Story of Adventure in the Western Prairies by - (read me like a book .txt) 📕

plain
as if it arose out of the mighty ocean.

Then they sprang from the saddle, and hastily set
about the preparation of their morning meal.



CHAPTER XI.


Evening meditations and morning reflections--Buffaloes, badgers,
antelopes, and accidents--An old bull and the wolves--"Mad
tails"--Henri floored, etc.

There is nothing that prepares one so well for the
enjoyment of rest, both mental and physical, as a
long-protracted period of excitement and anxiety, followed
up by bodily fatigue. Excitement alone banishes
rest; but, united with severe physical exertion, it prepares
for it. At least, courteous reader, this is our
experience; and certainly this was the experience of our
three hunters as they lay on their backs beneath the
branches of a willow bush and gazed serenely up at the
twinkling stars two days after their escape from the
Indian village.

They spoke little; they were too tired for that, also
they were too comfortable. Their respective suppers of
fresh antelope steak, shot that day, had just been disposed
of. Their feet were directed towards the small
fire on which the said steaks had been cooked, and
which still threw a warm, ruddy glow over the encampment.
Their blankets were wrapped comfortably round
them, and tucked in as only hunters and mothers know
how to tuck them in. Their respective pipes delivered
forth, at stated intervals, three richly yellow puffs of
smoke, as if a three-gun battery were playing upon the
sky from that particular spot of earth. The horses
were picketed and hobbled in a rich grassy bottom close
by, from which the quiet munch of their equine jaws
sounded pleasantly, for it told of healthy appetites,
and promised speed on the morrow. The fear of being
overtaken during the night was now past, and the
faithful Crusoe, by virtue of sight, hearing, and smell,
guaranteed them against sudden attack during the hours
of slumber. A perfume of wild flowers mingled with
the loved odours of the "weed," and the tinkle of a
tiny rivulet fell sweetly on their ears. In short, the
"Pale-faces" were supremely happy, and disposed to be
thankful for their recent deliverance and their present
comforts.

"I wonder what the stars are," said Dick, languidly
taking the pipe out of his mouth.

"Bits o' fire," suggested Joe.

"I tink dey are vorlds," muttered Henri, "an' have
peepels in dem. I have hear men say dat."

A long silence followed, during which, no doubt, the
star-gazers were working out various theories in their
own minds.

"Wonder," said Dick again, "how far off they be."

"A mile or two, maybe," said Joe.

Henri was about to laugh sarcastically at this, but
on further consideration he thought it would be more
comfortable not to, so he lay still. In another minute
he said,--

"Joe Blunt, you is ver' igrant. Don't you know dat
de books say de stars be hondreds, tousands--oh!
milleryons of mile away to here, and dat dey is more
bigger dan dis vorld?"

Joe snored lightly, and his pipe fell out of his
mouth at this point, so the conversation dropped.
Presently Dick asked in a low tone, "I say, Henri,
are ye asleep?"

"Oui," replied Henry faintly. "Don't speak, or you
vill vaken me."

"Ah, Crusoe! you're not asleep, are you, pup?" No
need to ask that question. The instantaneous wag of
that speaking tail and the glance of that wakeful eye,
as the dog lifted his head and laid his chin on Dick's
arm, showed that he had been listening to every word
that was spoken. We cannot say whether he understood
it, but beyond all doubt he heard it. Crusoe
never presumed to think of going to sleep until his
master was as sound as a top, then he ventured to indulge
in that light species of slumber which is familiarly known
as "sleeping with one eye open." But, comparatively as
well as figuratively speaking, Crusoe slept usually with
one eye and a half open, and the other half was never
very tightly shut.

Gradually Dick's pipe fell out of his mouth, an
event which the dog, with an exercise of instinct almost,
if not quite, amounting to reason, regarded as a
signal for him to go off. The camp fire went slowly
out, the stars twinkled down at their reflections in the
brook, and a deep breathing of wearied men was the
only sound that rose in harmony with the purling
stream.

Before the sun rose next morning, and while many of
the brighter stars were still struggling for existence
with the approaching day, Joe was up and buckling on
the saddle-bags, while he shouted to his unwilling companions
to rise.

"If it depended on you," he said, "the Pawnees
wouldn't be long afore they got our scalps. Jump, ye
dogs, an' lend a hand, will ye?"

A snore from Dick and a deep sigh from Henri was
the answer to this pathetic appeal. It so happened,
however, that Henri's pipe, in falling from his lips, had
emptied the ashes just under his nose, so that the sigh
referred to drew a quantity thereof into his throat and
almost choked him. Nothing could have been a more
effective awakener. He was up in a moment coughing
vociferously. Most men have a tendency to vent ill-humour
on some one, and they generally do it on one
whom they deem to be worse than themselves. Henri,
therefore, instead of growling at Joe for rousing him,
scolded Dick for not rising.

"Ha, mauvais dog! bad chien! vill you dare to look
to me?"

Crusoe did look with amiable placidity, as though to
say, "Howl away, old boy, I won't budge till Dick does."

With a mighty effort Giant Sleep was thrown off at
last, and the hunters were once more on their journey,
cantering lightly over the soft turf.

"Ho, let's have a run!" cried Dick, unable to repress
the feelings aroused by the exhilarating morning air.

"Have a care, boy," cried Joe, as they stretched out
at full gallop. "Keep off the ridge; it's riddled wi'
badger--Ha! I thought so."

At that moment Dick's horse put its foot into a
badger-hole and turned completely over, sending its
rider through the air in a curve that an East Indian
acrobat would have envied. For a few seconds Dick
lay flat on his back, then he jumped up and laughed,
while his comrades hurried up anxiously to his assistance.

"No bones broke?" inquired Joe.

Dick gave a hysterical gasp. "I--I think not."

"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