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

he looked at it, an' said
with a solemcholy shake o' the head, 'There's a whole
barrel-full lost!' It turned out that he had taken to
usin' the barrels for bottles to hold things in, but he
forgot to draw the charges, so sure enough I had fired
a charge o' bum-bees an' beetles an' small shot into
the buffalo!

"But that's not what I wos goin' to tell ye yit. We
corned to a part o' the plains where we wos well-nigh
starved for want o' game, an' the natter-list got so
thin that ye could a'most see through him, so I offered
to kill my horse, an' cut it up for meat; but you niver
saw sich a face he made. 'I'd rather die first,' says he,
'than eat it;' so we didn't kill it. But that very day
Martin got a shot at a wild horse an' killed it. The
natter-list was down in the bed o' a creek at the time
gropin' for creepers, an' he didn't see it.

"'He'll niver eat it,' says Martin.

"'That's true,' says I.

"'Let's tell him it's a buffalo,' says he.

"'That would be tellin' a lie,' says I.

"So we stood lookin' at each other, not knowin' what
to do.

"'I'll tell ye what,' cries Martin; 'we'll cut it up,
and take the meat into camp an' cook it without sayin'
a word.'

"'Done,' says I, 'that's it;' for ye must know the
poor critter wos no judge o' meat. He couldn't tell one kind from
another,
an' he niver axed questions.
In fact he niver a'most spoke to us all the trip. Well,
we cut up the horse, an' carried the flesh an' marrowbones
into camp, takin' care to leave the hoofs an' skin
behind, an' sot to work an' roasted steaks an' marrowbones."

"When the natter-list came back ye should ha' seen
the joyful face he put on when he smelt the grub, for
he was all but starved out, poor critter."

"'What have we got here?' cried he, rubbin' his
hands an' sittin' down."

"'Steaks an' marrow-bones,' says Martin."

"'Capital!' says he. 'I'm so hungry.'"

"So he fell to work like a wolf. I niver seed a man
pitch into anything like as that natter-list did into that
horseflesh."

"'These are first-rate marrow-bones,' says he, squintin'
with one eye down the shin-bone o' the hind leg to see if
it was quite empty."

"'Yes, sir, they is,' answered Martin, as grave as a judge."

"'Take another, sir,' says I."

"'No, thankee,' says he with a sigh, for he didn't
like to leave off."

"Well, we lived for a week on horseflesh, an' first-rate
livin' it wos; then we fell in with buffalo, an' niver
ran short again till we got to the settlements, when
he paid us our money an' shook hands, sayin' we'd had
a nice trip, an' he wished us well. Jist as we wos
partin' I said, says I, 'D'ye know what it wos we lived
on for a week arter we wos well-nigh starved in the
prairies?'"

"'What,' says he, 'when we got yon capital marrowbones?'"

"'The same,' says I. 'Yon wos horse flesh,' says I;
'an' I think ye'll surely niver say again that it isn't
first-rate livin'.'"

"'Ye're jokin',' says he, turnin' pale."

"'It's true, sir; as true as ye're standin' there.'"

"Well, would ye believe it, he turned--that natter-list
did--as sick as a dog on the spot wot he wos
standin' on, an' didn't taste meat again for three days!"

Shortly after the conclusion of Joe's story they
reached the camp, and here they found the women and
children flying about in a state of terror, and the few
men who had been left in charge arming themselves in
the greatest haste.

"Hallo! something wrong here," cried Cameron,
hastening forward, followed by Joe. "What has happened,
eh?"

"Injuns comin', monsieur; look dere," answered a
trapper, pointing down the valley.

"Arm and mount at once, and come to the front of
the camp," cried Cameron in a tone of voice that silenced
every other, and turned confusion into order.

The cause of all this outcry was a cloud of dust seen
far down the valley, which was raised by a band of
mounted Indians who approached the camp at full
speed. Their numbers could not be made out, but they
were a sufficiently formidable band to cause much
anxiety to Cameron, whose men, at the time, were
scattered to the various trapping-grounds, and only ten
chanced to be within call of the camp. However, with
these ten he determined to show a bold front to the
savages, whether they came as friends or foes. He
therefore ordered the women and children within the
citadel formed of the goods and packs of furs piled
upon each other, which point of retreat was to be defended
to the last extremity. Then galloping to the
front he collected his men and swept down the valley at
full speed. In a few minutes they were near enough to
observe that the enemy only numbered four Indians,
who were driving a band of about a hundred horses
before them, and so busy were they in keeping the
troop together that Cameron and his men were close
upon them before they were observed.

It was too late to escape. Joe Blunt and Henri had
already swept round and cut off their retreat. In this
extremity the Indians slipped from the backs of their
steeds and darted into the bushes, where they were
safe from pursuit, at least on horseback, while the
trappers got behind the horses and drove them towards
the camp.

At this moment one of the horses sprang ahead of
the others and made for the mountain, with its mane
and tail flying wildly in the breeze.

"Marrow-bones and buttons!" shouted one of the
men, "there goes Dick Varley's horse."

"So it am!" cried Henri, and dashed off in pursuit,
followed by Joe and two others.

"Why, these are our own horses," said Cameron in
surprise, as they drove them into a corner of the hills
from which they could not escape.

This was true, but it was only half the truth, for,
besides their own horses, they had secured upwards of
seventy Indian steeds; a most acceptable addition to
their stud, which, owing to casualties and wolves, had
been diminishing too much of late. The fact was that
the Indians who had captured the horses belonging to
Pierre and his party were a small band of robbers who
had travelled, as was afterwards learned, a considerable
distance from the south, stealing horses from various
tribes as they went along. As we have seen, in an evil
hour they fell in with Pierre's party and carried off
their steeds, which they drove to a pass leading from
one valley to the other. Here they united them with
the main band of their ill-gotten gains, and while the
greater number of the robbers descended farther into
the plains in search of more booty, four of them were
sent into the mountains with the horses already procured.
These four, utterly ignorant of the presence of
white men in the valley, drove their charge, as we have
seen, almost into the camp.

Cameron immediately organized a party to go out in
search of Pierre and his companions, about whose fate
he became intensely anxious, and in the course of half-an-hour
as many men as he could spare with safety were
despatched in the direction of the Blue Mountains.



CHAPTER XXII.


Charlie's adventures with savages and bears--Trapping
life.


It is one thing to chase a horse; it is another thing
to catch it. Little consideration and less sagacity
are required to convince us of the truth of that fact.

The reader may perhaps venture to think this rather
a trifling fact. We are not so sure of that. In this
world of fancies, to have any fact incontestably proved
and established is a comfort, and whatever is a source
of comfort to mankind is worthy of notice. Surely our
reader won't deny that! Perhaps he will, so we can
only console ourself with the remark that there are
people in this world who would deny anything--who
would deny that there was a nose on their face if you
said there was!

Well, to return to the point, which was the chase of
a horse in the abstract; from which we will rapidly
diverge to the chase of Dick Varley's horse in particular.
This noble charger, having been ridden by savages until
all his old fire and blood and mettle were worked up
to a red heat, no sooner discovered that he was pursued
than he gave a snort of defiance, which he accompanied
with a frantic shake of his mane and a fling
of contempt in addition to a magnificent wave of
his tail. Then he thundered up the valley at a pace
which would speedily have left Joe Blunt and Henri
out of sight behind if--ay! that's the word, if! What
a word that if is! what a world of if's we live in!
There never was anything that wouldn't have been
something else if something hadn't intervened to prevent
it! Yes, we repeat Charlie would have left his
two friends miles and miles behind in what is called
"no time," if he had not run straight into a gorge
which was surrounded by inaccessible precipices, and
out of which there was no exit except by the entrance,
which was immediately barred by Henri, while Joe
advanced to catch the run-away.

For two hours at least did Joe Blunt essay to catch
Charlie, and during that space of time he utterly failed
The horse seemed to have made up his mind for what
is vulgarly termed "a lark."

"It won't do, Henri," said Joe, advancing towards
his companion, and wiping his forehead with the cuff
of his leathern coat; "I can't catch him. The wind's
a'most blowed out o' me body."

"Dat am vexatiable," replied Henri, in a tone of
commiseration. "S'pose I wos make try?"

"In that case I s'pose ye would fail. But go ahead,
an' do what ye can. I'll hold yer horse."

So Henri began by a rush and a flourish of legs and
arms that nearly frightened the horse out of his wits.
For half-an-hour he went through all the complications
of running and twisting of which he was capable, without
success, when Joe Blunt suddenly uttered a stentorian
yell that rooted him to the spot on which he
stood.

To account for this, we must explain that in the
heights of the Rocky Mountains vast accumulations of
snow take place among the crevices and gorges during
winter. Such of these masses as form on steep slopes
are loosened by occasional thaws, and are precipitated
in the form of avalanches into the valleys below, carrying
trees and stones along with them in their thundering
descent. In the gloomy gorge where Dick's
horse had taken refuge the precipices were so steep that
many avalanches had occurred, as was evident from the
mounds of heaped snow that lay at the foot of most of
them. Neither stones nor trees were carried down here,
however, for the cliffs were nearly perpendicular, and
the snow slipping over their edges had fallen on the
grass below. Such an avalanche was now about to take
place, and it was this that caused Joe to utter his cry
of alarm and warning.

Henri and the horse were directly under the cliff over
which it was about to be hurled, the latter close to the
wall of rock, the other at some distance away from it.

Joe cried again, "Back, Henri! back vite!" when
the mass flowed over and fell with a roar like prolonged
thunder. Henri sprang back in time to save his life,
though he was knocked down and almost stunned; but
poor Charlie was completely buried under the avalanche,
which now presented the appearance of a hill of snow.

The instant Henri recovered sufficiently, Joe and he
mounted their horses and galloped back to the camp as
fast as possible.

Meanwhile, another spectator stepped forward upon
the scene they had left, and surveyed the snow hill
with a critical eye. This was no less than a grizzly
bear, which had, unobserved, been a spectator, and which
immediately proceeded to dig into the mound, with the
purpose, no doubt, of disentombing the carcass of the
horse for purposes of his own.

While he was thus actively engaged the two hunters
reached the camp, where they found that Pierre and his
party had just arrived. The men sent out in search of
them had scarcely advanced a mile when they found
them trudging back to the camp in a very disconsolate
manner. But all their sorrows were put to flight on
hearing of the curious way in which the horses had
been returned to them with interest.

Scarcely had Dick Varley, however, congratulated
himself on the recovery of his gallant steed, when he
was thrown into despair by the sudden arrival of Joe
with the tidings of the catastrophe we have just related.

Of course there was a general rush to the rescue.
Only a few men were ordered to remain to guard the
camp, while the remainder mounted their horses and
galloped towards the gorge where Charlie had been entombed.
On arriving, they found that Bruin had
worked with such laudable zeal