Jack Among the Indians; Or, A Boy's Summer on the Buffalo Plains
by George Bird Grinnell · English · Gutenberg #46205 · 467,642 chars · public domain (US)
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Title: Jack Among the Indians; Or, A Boy's Summer on the Buffalo Plains
Author: George Bird Grinnell
Illustrator: Edwin Willard Deming
Release date: July 6, 2014 [eBook #46205]
Most recently updated: October 24, 2024
Language: English
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*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK JACK AMONG THE INDIANS; OR, A BOY'S SUMMER ON THE BUFFALO PLAINS ***
JACK AMONG THE INDIANS.
OTHER BOOKS
BY
GEORGE BIRD GRINNELL.
JACK, THE YOUNG RANCHMAN, PRICE $1.25
PAWNEE HERO STORIES AND FOLK TALES, " 1.75
BLACKFOOT LODGE TALES, " 1.75
THE STORY OF THE INDIAN, " 1.50
THE INDIANS OF TO-DAY, " 5.00
[Illustration: "JACK'S GUN WAS AT HIS SHOULDER, HE FIRED."--_Page 174_]
JACK AMONG THE INDIANS
OR
A BOY'S SUMMER ON THE BUFFALO PLAINS
BY
GEORGE BIRD GRINNELL
_Author of "Jack, the Young Ranchman," "Pawnee Hero Stories,"
"Blackfoot Lodge Tales," "The Story of the Indian,"
"The Indians of To-day," etc._
_Illustrated by_
EDWIN WILLARD DEMING
[Illustration: Logo]
NEW YORK
FREDERICK A. STOKES COMPANY
PUBLISHERS
Copyright, 1900,
BY FREDERICK A. STOKES COMPANY
_My Dear Nephews and Nieces_:--
A long time ago, before any of you were born, great herds of buffalo fed
on the western plains, and wild Indians lived by hunting them. They ate
the flesh, wore the skins as clothing, slept in lodges made from the
hides, and fashioned tools from different parts of the buffalo's body.
There were few settlements, and as the buffalo roamed far and wide over
the treeless land, the Indians followed them; for then both were free.
Often a tribe was obliged to defend itself against the attacks of
enemies; and its young men often made war journeys into hostile country.
Though the daily life of the village was quiet and simple, yet sometimes
it was interrupted by most exciting incidents and adventures both of
hunting and fighting.
You listened attentively to the story of "Jack, the Young Ranchman," and
I hope that you will like to learn what Jack did the next season, when
he spent the summer with the buffalo eaters of the Northern Plains,
hunted their game, fought their enemies and lived their life.
Your affectionate UNCLE.
NEW YORK, SEPT. 1, 1900.
CONTENTS.
CHAPTER. PAGE.
I. BACK TO THE RANCH 1
II. A GLANCE BACKWARD 10
III. GETTING READY 17
IV. THE START 27
V. THE FIRST FRESH MEAT 37
VI. INDIANS OF OLD TIMES 47
VII. AN INDIAN WAR PARTY 57
VIII. DODGING INDIANS 70
IX. A BIGHORN IN CAMP 80
X. BUFFALO 93
XI. IN THE QUICKSANDS 104
XII. RESTING UP 115
XIII. TO FORT BENTON AND BEYOND 123
XIV. THE PIEGAN CAMP 133
XV. INDIANS AT HOME 145
XVI. AN INDIAN FRIEND 154
XVII. AN ENEMY IN CAMP 168
XVIII. THE COUNTING OF A COUP 179
XIX. A STRONG TEMPTATION 187
XX. WHITE WARRIOR, PIEGAN 198
XXI. THE CAMP MOVES 211
XXII. RUNNING BUFFALO 224
XXIII. THE WOUNDING OF FOX EYE 237
XXIV. A MYSTERY OF THE PRAIRIE 252
XXV. THE RELIC OF A FIGHT 265
XXVI. CLOSE QUARTERS WITH A BEAR 273
XXVII. BAPTISTE LAJEUNESSE 286
XXVIII. THE LOST GOLD 293
Jack Among the Indians.
CHAPTER I.
BACK TO THE RANCH.
The train rushed down the hill, with a long shrieking whistle, and then
began to go more and more slowly. Thomas had brushed Jack off and
thanked him for the coin that he put in his hand, and with the bag in
one hand and the stool in the other now went out onto the platform and
down the steps, Jack closely following. The train had almost stopped,
and Jack bent forward over the porter's head to try to see the platform
and to learn who was there to meet him. Suddenly he caught sight of
three horses grazing not far from the station, and he shouted, "Oh,
there's Pawnee! Look, Thomas! that's my riding-horse; that brown with
the saddle on."
"That's yours, is it, Master Jack? He's a good one; I can see that from
here. Are you going to ride out to the ranch?"
"I don't know," said Jack, "but we must be, I guess." And then, as he
jumped down off the step and saw Hugh walking toward him, he shouted,
"Hello, Hugh! I'm glad you've come for me. Isn't this bully? Good-bye,
Thomas." And, taking his bag, he started running to meet Hugh.
"Well," said the old man, as he gave him a cordial hand clasp, "I am
sure glad to see you, son. You got here all right, and on time. Didn't
have no accidents, I expect?"
"No," said Jack, "I'm all right. Isn't it great to be here again. I
don't know when I've been so glad before. I've been thinking about this
time ever since I left here last fall."
"Well," said Hugh, "we're all right glad to have you come back again. I
don't expect you've got any baggage except this, and there ain't nothing
to wait for; we might go over and put the bag on the pack-horse, and
start. I've been here ever since last night, and I've had enough of this
town."
"We're going to ride then, are we? That's better fun than going in the
wagon. I thought when I saw Pawnee that maybe that was the way you'd
fixed it."
"Yes," said Hugh, "I expect you ain't done much riding since you left
here, and we've got a long way to go, and I thought maybe it would be a
good thing to begin breaking you in to the saddle right off. How does it
suit you?"
"Splendid," said Jack. "We can make better time on horseback than we
could in the wagon, and I'm mighty anxious to get to the ranch and see
everybody again. How's the elk?"
"He's all right; fat, and just about half shed off; he looks kind o'
ragged, but before long, when his old coat's gone, he'll be smooth as
silk and pretty as a picture."
"That's good, and how are the ducks?"
"They're all right, too," said Hugh, "barring a couple that got killed
only a few days ago. I don't rightly know what 'twas that killed 'em,
but I reckon 'twas a bob-cat. I seen the tracks of one in the brush the
last snow we had, and a few days afterward one of your ducks disappeared
one day while they was out down to the brook, and two days afterward the
old black tom-cat was gone, and two or three days afterward another
duck. I never did see anything of the ducks, but I found the bones of
the old tom-cat up in the brush a little while afterward, and there was
a lot of fur in his claws, and it was bob-cat hair. Since that second
duck got taken I haven't let them birds out except when I was there to
watch 'em, and keep my eye on 'em all the time."
"I'm sorry those ducks got killed," said Jack, "I was in hopes they'd
breed this year, and we'd have a lot of young ones."
"Well, maybe they will, but they've got to be watched, or else they've
got to have some sort of a pen built for 'em, because you see, they
can't fly, and it's mighty easy for anything to catch 'em."
By this time they were close to the horses, and Jack ran up to Pawnee
and began to talk to him and pat him. The horse put his ears forward and
arched his neck over Jack's shoulder, rubbing his head against him, as
if he really knew who it was and was glad to see the boy back again.
Meantime, Hugh was gathering up the ropes, and coiling them and putting
them on the saddles. He bridled his own horse, and Jack did the same for
Pawnee, both throwing down the reins; then the cinches of the pack
saddle were tightened, and the bag quickly lashed in place.
"You better put your gun in your scabbard, son, and put some cartridges
in your pocket; might be such a thing as you'd see something you'd want
to shoot." Jack did so, and then they mounted and started off at a good
lope over the prairie. Jack's heart was swelling with delight as he felt
the cool wind on his face, and smelt again the odour of the sage, and
saw the familiar birds rising from the ground and flying ahead, and
alighting again in the road before them.
"I saw quite a lot of antelope from the train as we came along this
morning, Hugh," he said. "I suppose there are plenty of 'em out at the
ranch."
"Oh, yes, there's plenty of antelope. That bunch that used to live over
in the pasture have just come back, and will be there all summer, I
expect."
"Have you killed much game this winter?" said Jack.
"Well, no," was the reply, "not what you'd call much. We've had fresh
meat right along, elk and blacktail and antelope. Early in the winter,
just before we had that big storm, I went over to Point-of-rocks and
killed three sheep; that's about the only thing out of ordinary that's
been done."
"Three sheep! I wish I could get a chance to kill one. I've never even
seen a sheep, and I want to get a shot at one most awfully."
"Well," said Hugh, "likely while we're up north we'll get a chance to;
there's plenty of sheep in the Missouri River bad lands, and in the
bluffs of the Yellowstone, and of course in the mountains. The Piegans,
you know, don't go much into the mountains, but they kill quite some
sheep in the bad lands, and on some of the buttes. Now, the Sweet Grass
Hills are a great place for sheep; we're likely after we get to the
Piegans to camp close to them, and maybe we can make a hunt up there for
two or three days. I ain't a mite afeared but what you'll have chances
at sheep before summer's over."
"Gracious! buffalo and sheep! That would be enough hunting for one
summer, I should think. You're sure that when we go north we'll have
plenty of buffalo hunting?"
"Lord, yes," said Hugh, "there'll be buffalo a plenty long after you and
I are both dead."
By this time they had passed through the breaks and crossed the river,
and come up over the hill, so that they could see the great lone
mountain, where the road turned off to the right. "Oh, there's Bent Rock
Mountain! that looks good, don't it, with the gray rocks and the black
cedars scattered all over it. Now, there are sheep there, Hugh; don't
you ever hunt there?"
"No," said Hugh; "there's a little bunch of sheep there, but they're
mighty hard to get at, and I don't bother with 'em."
They rode on down the hill at a swinging canter, splashed through the
stream, turned to the right and went up by the mountain, past the place
where about a year before Jack had seen his first grizzly, and then
turning to the left, galloped along across the undulating sage-brush
prairie. The pack horse all the time was following close at their
heels; his load was light and he knew that he was going home, and
required no driving.
Suddenly, as they rode over the crest of one of the prairie swells,
which gave a little wider view than most of them, Jack saw quite close
to them a cow running hard, with head down and tongue out, and right at
her heels a big wolf, and a little behind that, another. Just as they
came in sight, the leading wolf sprang forward and caught the cow by the
flank, and though it seemed impossible that so small an animal should
throw one so large, the cow fell prone upon the prairie. While all this
was passing before Jack's eyes, Hugh's horse stopped, his rider swung
out of the saddle, his gun came to his shoulder, and as the smoke leaped
from it, the second wolf fell. Jack had not been long enough on the
prairie to act quite as quickly as Hugh; it took him a second or two to
drag his gun from its scabbard and to spring from his horse, but the
wolf that had pulled down the cow had not run more than a few yards
before he fired at it; it gave a dismal howl, but still kept on; he shot
again, and again the wolf yelled, but still it ran. It was almost on top
of the hill now, when Hugh fired, and it disappeared. They jumped into
their saddles and rode to the place, and found the wolf just kicking in
the death struggle.
"Well," said Hugh, "that's a good job, anyhow. There's been a heap o'
wolves round this winter, and I'm glad we got these two. I wish we'd
come a minute earlier, so's to have saved that cow."
"Do you think she's dead, Hugh?" said Jack.
"I expect so," said Hugh. "I've seen a heap o' cattle killed by just
one bite from a wolf; often it didn't seem if 'twas a bad bite either.
I've sometimes thought that maybe they was just scared to death. I
expect, though, we'll find that cow dead." By this time the wolf had
ceased to struggle, and Hugh, picking it up, threw it across his saddle,
and they walked back to the cow and the other wolf, which lay within
three feet of each other. As Hugh had thought, the cow was dead, though
the wound in her flank did not seem to be a severe one. Evidently she
had been chased for some distance, for on her neck and shoulders there
was froth from the mouth, showing that she had run a long way. Hugh
turned her over and looked at the brand on her side. "Well," he said,
"it's one of Powell's cows. The wolves do seem to pick out his cows, and
do him a heap o' harm. Nice cow, too; in good order. I hate to see this
beef go to waste. I believe I'll butcher her, so she won't spoil, and
maybe your uncle will want to send down a wagon to-morrow and bring the
meat into camp. While I'm doing that, do you expect you could skin one
of them wolves? I reckon you'd like to save them hides; they're in
pretty fair order, for they haven't begun to shed out much yet. While
you're doing it you might look and see where your bullets hit the wolf
you shot at. I expect I can tell you why he didn't fall right off when
you shot. You're out of practice, and you drawed your sight too coarse.
You hit him both times, but kind o' creased him instead of hitting him
where the life lay. You ain't forgot how to shoot, but you've got to
learn your gun over again."
While Hugh was opening the cow and removing the entrails, Jack took out
his pocket knife and began to skin the wolf. Luckily he had had his
knife sharpened just before he left home, and so he worked pretty fast,
and before Hugh had left the cow and begun to skin the other wolf, Jack
was half through with his. They finished skinning at about the same
time, and Hugh tied the two hides on the pack-horse; then he lit a pipe,
sat down and smoked for a while.
"I don't grudge the time we took to kill these wolves," he said.
"Killing wolves is part of the work on a ranch, just like taking calves
out of a snow-bank, or branding colts is. It's something that's got to
be did, and like all other work it takes time. Where did you find them
bullet holes of yours, son?"
"I found them just where you said they'd be, Hugh. One of them had just
cut the skin on the back, and the other went through just over the
shoulders, and nicked one of the shoulder-blades."
"That's what I thought," said Hugh; "you've got to fire a few shots and
learn over again just how to hold your gun, if you want to drive nails.
Now, let's go along. I'd like to get to the ranch as near supper time as
we can."
They mounted and rode on. The wind was now blowing so hard that,
although they rode side by side, they could not talk to each other
without shouting. The horses were fat and fresh, and mile after mile
disappeared swiftly under their ringing hoofs. Every few minutes Jack
saw some place that was familiar to him, and wanted to ask Hugh
something about it, but a few attempts convinced him that it was useless
to try to talk in the wind. Now and then a bunch of antelope were seen
off to one side, or a jack-rabbit jumped up from under a sage brush, and
raced off, or a single sage-hen rose from the ground and scaled off down
the wind. As they climbed more slowly the divide which led up to the
valley where the ranch was situated they passed through a village of
prairie dogs. These had not long since awakened from their winter sleep,
and were busy plucking the young grass, now just appearing above the
ground, and only those nearest the road paid any attention to the
horsemen. Now and then little bunches of horses were passed, still clad
in their winter coats, which hung down a hand's breadth below their
chins and necks and bellies. With them they could see now and then tiny
colts, which kept close to their mothers' sides, feeling that only there
were they out of danger. At the edge of the dog town a badger was seen,
nosing along through the sage brush, and Jack reached down his hand to
get his gun, but looking at Hugh saw him shake his head, and understood
that he did not wish to wait.
The sun had nearly reached the western mountains when they rode down
into the Swiftwater Valley, and though they galloped along at a good
pace, it was long after dark before the lights of the ranch house met
their eyes. A little later they halted before the barn.
"Now, son, you're here again, and this time I expect you don't need no
looking after. We'll unsaddle here; you hang your things up on the old
peg, and we'll leave the horses in the stalls to-night."
A few moments later, carrying their guns and Jack's bag, they stepped
into the kitchen of the ranch, and were warmly welcomed by all hands.
CHAPTER II.
A GLANCE BACKWARD.
It was late May at the Swiftwater Ranch; back in the east it would have
been summer, but here the snow was falling heavily, and being whirled
about the buildings by the high wind, piling up in drifts on the leeward
side, and being swept off the ground to windward. Down in the bunk-house
Jack Danvers and Hugh Johnson were sitting on the floor near the warm
stove, looking over pack-saddles, cinches and ropes, for they were
preparing to make a long journey.
Only the day before Jack had reached the ranch from New York, after an
absence of seven months, and all his friends there were glad to see him
again. During the winter he had succeeded in persuading his parents to
consent to his making the long trip up north to the Piegan camp, of
which Hugh and John Monroe had talked to him the year before. Mr.
Sturgis, his uncle, wished to have him go, and had said that he was
willing to let Hugh be absent from the ranch during the time needed for
the journey and the stay in the Indian camp. This would be not less than
four months, for it would take them a month to reach the camp, and
nearly as much more to return, and it was not worth while to make so
long a trip unless they were to stay with the Indians two or three
months.
It will be remembered by those who have read the adventures of Jack
during his summer spent on Mr. Sturgis' ranch, that he had learned a
good deal about life in the west;--to ride and shoot and throw a
rope--and had been taught by Hugh much of the knowledge required by one
who lived the open-air life of mountain and prairie. Hugh had said, and
Jack's uncle agreed with him, that they two could perfectly well make
the journey to the north. There was only one possible cause of anxiety,
and that was the chance that they might meet with some party of hostile
Indians, in which case they might have to fight for their lives. There
was not much danger that this would happen, for spring had but just
opened, the grass was only now beginning to start; the Indian ponies,
which are always thin in flesh at the end of the winter, would not have
become fat; and so it was too early for war parties to be moving about
much. On the other hand, the riding and pack animals taken by Hugh would
be fat and in good condition, and so, well able to run away from any
pursuers. It had been determined, too, to select horses that were fast,
and when these precautions had been taken, and Hugh's great knowledge of
Indians and their ways was considered, the danger of trouble appeared
very slight.
Mr. Sturgis was extremely fond of Jack, and dearly loved his sister, and
he would not for a moment have thought of letting the boy run any risks.
"I didn't hardly know you yesterday, son, when you got off the train;
you seem to have changed a heap since you went away from here last fall.
You're sure grown; you're a heap taller than you were, and you look
kind o' white and bleached out, like you'd faded."
"I guess that's so, Hugh," replied Jack, "I know I've grown pretty near
two inches, for I was measured last fall, when I entered school, and
again this spring when I left, and of course I'm white, because I've
been living in a house ever since I got back, and haven't been out of
doors at all."
"Well, what did ye do all winter?" said Hugh; "went to school, I reckon,
and learned a whole lot. Study hard?"
"Yes, I studied hard. Of course I wanted to do well, but after I'd been
back a little while, I thought that maybe if I worked right hard at
school, and got good reports right along, father would be more willing
to have me come out here again and spend the summer with you."
"Well, that was pretty good sense. I expect ye tried to keep him pleased
with your schooling right along."
"Yes, I did," said Jack. "I told Uncle Will about it soon after I
started in at school, and he said it was a mighty good idea, and I'd
better keep it up. I don't know whether they would have let me come or
not, if it hadn't been for Uncle Will. When he left home in the spring I
heard him say to mother, 'Jack's been working hard all winter, and he's
getting to look pretty thin and white; I really think you'd better send
him off to me again in a month or two, for that long trip that he and
Hugh have been planning.' So along in April I spoke to father about
coming out again. He said he was willing I should come if mother was,
and that he'd talk to her about it; so after a while it got so that we
all of us talked it over together, and at last father and mother both
said that I could come; and here I am, and mighty glad to get back here,
too, you bet."
"Well, you bet, we're mighty glad to see you, and we'd like to have you
stop here right along; only I don't expect that would do, 'cause ye're
young and ye've got a heap to learn; but it's sure mighty good for a boy
to spend three or four months out here in the fine weather, and so to
get ready for these long months when ye've got to live in a house all
the time."
"There's one thing I did last winter, Hugh, that I think is going to be
a lot of fun; I learned how to make a bird skin."
"Make a bird skin!" said Hugh. "How do ye make it?"
"I mean I learned how to skin a bird, and stuff cotton into it, and fix
it up so that it looks just like a dead bird lying there with its legs
stretched out. You know there are people who study birds and know all
about all the different kinds. When they see a bird they can tell you in
a minute just what its Latin name is, and where it lives in summer, and
then where it goes to pass the winter, for of course there are lots of
birds that go south in the fall, until the weather gets warm, and then
come north again."
"Yes, that's so," said Hugh, "everybody knows that."
"Well," continued Jack, "of course there isn't any man who has been all
over the world and seen all the birds that there are, alive; so the men
that go to one place, kill and skin a lot of the birds that live there,
and then when they get back they put these skins in a museum, where
everybody can see them; and there are a lot of men doing this all the
time; and so after a while the biggest museums come to have the skins of
pretty nearly all the birds there are. There must be a lot of 'em in
all. An ornithologist told me there were more than 750 in North
America."
"What was it told you that?" asked Hugh.
"An ornithologist," said Jack.
"What's that?" questioned Hugh; "it's a mighty long word, 'pears to me."
"It means a man that studies birds, and knows all about them."
"Well," said Hugh, "I'd hate to be called by such a name as that, even
if I did know all about birds."
"Why," said Jack, "that word isn't anything to some of the Latin names
these little birds have. I don't know what they are, many of them, at
least, but they're all written down in Uncle Will's bird book, up at the
house, and some of them are terrors, I can tell you."
"And this man told you there was 750 different kinds of birds in this
country, did he?" said Hugh.
"That's what he told me," said Jack.
"Well," said Hugh, "of course this is a big country, and I make no doubt
there's lots o' birds that I never saw, but I don't believe that there's
fifty different kinds o' birds around this ranch."
"Oh, yes there are. I'll bet there's twice as many as that. Why just try
and count 'em up for yourself; think of all the different kinds of ducks
and geese that we saw last fall, and the grouse, and the robins and the
gray jays. I'll bet you could count more than fifty yourself, if you had
time to think about it."
"Well," said Hugh, "maybe I could; come to think about it; there's a
heap o' different kinds o' birds. I never paid much attention to any of
'em, only the kinds that's good to eat; but say, I should think it would
be mighty hard work skinning these little birds; their skin must be
awful thin, and tear mighty easy."
"Well," said Jack, "that's just what I thought when I started in, but
the fact is their skins are pretty tough. Of course you can't pull at
them the way you would at a deer skin, but if you know how to do it, you
scarcely ever tear a bird skin.
"Uncle Will put me up to this soon after I got home, and he took me down
to a bird skinner and hired him to give me lessons. I used to go down
there twice a week all through the winter and spring, and I have got so
now that I can make a pretty good skin, and work pretty fast, too. I'm
going to try to collect a few skins here, sometime when I can. If I come
out another summer to stay here, I shall try to make a collection of all
the birds that live here in summer."
"Well, I'd like right well to see you doing that work. It seems to me it
would be mighty hard, but then there's a whole lot of things that we
ain't none of us ever done that looks hard and yet are real easy after
we know how to do 'em."
While all this talk was going on, they had been sorting over the
material that was strewed on the floor, had picked out four good strong
pack saddles, and the greater part of their riggings. Two of the lash
cinches were in good order, the other two needed new hooks. Hugh stepped
out of doors, and presently returned, bringing with him a small elk
horn, from which he sawed off two lengths, each of which bore a prong.
These he placed in a vice, shaped with a heavy rasp, and then passed
over to Jack to fasten to the cinches. The smooth hook of horn was laced
to the end of the cinch so that it hung down three inches below it.
All the straps of the pack saddle were now carefully looked over; any
that were worn or in any way weak were renewed; sling ropes of just the
right length were cut for each saddle, and new lash ropes took the place
of one or two that showed signs of wear; four hackamores were made, one
for each pack horse.
This work took up all the morning, and was not entirely finished when
the horn blew for dinner.
CHAPTER III.
GETTING READY.
When Hugh and Jack went back to the bunk-house, after dinner, the snow
had ceased falling, and the sun was shining brightly. The little birds
that had been hidden in the brush during the storm had come out, and
were now hopping about on the wet ground, feeding, while some were
cheerily singing from the tops of the fence posts. The mellow whistle of
the meadow lark was heard alike from far down the valley and from the
hillsides above them, and the black-birds were gurgling in the aspens
behind the house. Jack stopped before entering the bunk-house and looked
at the mountain, still white with snow, and stretched out his arms and
drew a deep breath, and yelled aloud with pure delight. Hugh turned and
looked back at him through the open door, smiling, as if greatly
pleased, and said, "Seems good to get back, don't it? I tell ye there's
no place like the mountains, and the longer ye stay among them the
longer ye want to be there."
"I guess that's so, Hugh," said Jack; "it seems to me I never was so
glad to be anywhere as I am to be here. Somehow I can't say what I feel,
but I just seem to be all full in here," and he placed his hand on his
breast.
"Yes, I know what you mean, although I can't say it no more than you
can."
A few moments later the two were kneeling on the floor, unpacking the
contents of a large box which had come to the ranch some time before.
Hugh and Mr. Sturgis had thought that it might be a good thing for the
travellers to take with them some articles to trade with the Indians. Of
course a few presents would be needed, for, although Hugh, from his old
acquaintance with the tribe, was sure of a hearty welcome, and Jack, as
a friend of Hugh and John Monroe, would be gladly received, there would
be times when it would be desirable to make to certain men small gifts;
but besides this, it had occurred to Mr. Sturgis that perhaps they might
buy a few horses, and furs enough to load them, and might bring them
back on their return journey. Thus, the trip would be one of mingled
business and pleasure, and there certainly was no possible objection to
making a trading journey of the visit.
The different bundles that were taken out were labeled, and were put in
piles on the floor. There were bolts of red and of blue cloth; and of
gaily figured calicos; two or three bundles of bright handkerchiefs;
boxes containing beads, selected with care as being the kind most prized
by the Indians; there was quite a large bundle of cans of dry paint of
different colors; and last, and perhaps most important of all, if one
might estimate its value by the amount of pleasure it would give, a
large bundle of tobacco.
"Quite a bunch of stuff, ain't it, son?"
"Yes, indeed," said Jack; "there's more than I thought there was. How
are you going to divide it up?"
"Well," said Hugh, "these things look like more than they are. A lot of
these bundles are bulky, and don't weigh much. I guess we'll get it all
on two horses, and that will leave one horse for the grub and one for
our beds and the mess outfit. Now, I expect the best thing we can do is
to go up and see if we can't get Mrs. Carter to give us three or four
seamless sacks, and make up packs of all this stuff, so that we can
throw 'em right on and off the horses. Then we won't have to be
gathering up a lot of little, small bundles every time we start to pack
in the morning. Of course gunny sacks would do, but we want to keep all
this stuff as clean as we can, so that when we get to the Indian camp
and open it, even the outsides of the bundles will look pretty fresh and
new; and besides that we've got to get a couple of mantas for these
packs, for likely we'll have plenty of rain storms while we're on the
road, and we want to keep these things dry if we can. The best way we
can work it, we'll likely get them wet crossing some creek between here
and the north, for all the creeks will be full now for the next month,
and we'll likely have to do some swimming." Hugh went back into the dark
store room and rummaged about for awhile, and then came out, carrying
three or four nearly square pieces of canvas, which he threw on the
ground.
"I thought we had some," he said in a satisfied tone, "but they ain't
been used for a long time, and I didn't know but the boys had lost 'em."
"What are they for, Hugh?"
"Why, you see," said Hugh, "you throw a manta over your pack, after you
get the load on, but before you put on your lash rope; the lash holds
the manta in place, and it keeps everything below it dry.
"Well now, son, we've got everything except the blankets, and I believe
it would be a good idea if you'd saddle up Pawnee and go out and drive
in the horses that are in the pasture, and I'll show you what pack
horses we've picked out, and then we'll put the saddles on 'em, and make
sure that we've got everything."
"All right, Hugh, I'll do it;" and he went down to the stable, put the
saddle on Pawnee, rode over into the pasture and gathered what horses
were there, drove them into the corral, and shut the gate. Hugh had
already carried down two of the pack saddles and blankets, and Jack,
leaving Pawnee at the corral, started up to the bunk-house, but met Hugh
coming with the other two saddles and their blankets.
"Now," said Hugh, as they reached the corral, "I'll show you what horses
I've picked out for the trip. We want animals that are fat and strong
and pretty tough, and pretty fast, too. I ain't going to take along any
old plug pack horses, because, you see, it might be such a thing as we'd
get chased, and have to run, and we don't want to have horses that we'll
have to leave behind, and so lose our grub or our blankets or our goods.
Your uncle, he said he was willing we should take two pretty good saddle
horses for two of our pack animals, and I figured we'd take two of them
young horses that you see Toney bust last year; they ain't well enough
broke yet to be right good riding horses, but they're tough and strong,
and by the time they've carried a pack a week or ten days they'll be
plenty gentle.
"Take your rope now and go in and catch me that paint horse, and we'll
put him in the small corral, and then I want that big dun over there,
him they call the bucking dun, and then that black with the white hind
foot; and then I reckoned we'd take either that star-faced bay or else
that gray, I ain't quite made up my mind which. Which do you like the
best?"
"Well, Hugh, if we were just going off on a trip I'd take the gray,
because he looks the stoutest, and the best able to carry a load, but I
should think the bay could run the fastest, if you're looking for
speed."
"Well now, you ain't forgot all you learned last year, have you? That's
a pretty good judgment. I expect we'll leave the gray here and take the
bay, and we'll make him carry our beds and ammunition, because that's
the lightest load, and them's the things we'd hate most to lose."
Jack caught the horses one by one, and was pleased to find that he had
not forgotten how to throw a rope. He turned them into the small corral,
and Hugh let the other horses out into the pasture; then, one by one,
the horses were caught, the hackamores put on them, and then blankets
and saddles. At first the cinches were drawn only tight enough to keep
the saddles in place, but after all were saddled, they went over them
again and drew both cinches up tight. To this operation the bucking dun
objected strenuously, and, as the flank cinch was drawn tight, he broke
away, and bucked vigourously about the small corral. When he had stopped
they caught him again, and again drew up on the cinch, finally tying it;
and then, fastening up the hackamore, turned the horse loose. The
star-faced bay also bucked, but not so hard nor so long as the dun.
"Now, I'll tell you what, son," said Hugh, "any of these horses we take
along can be ridden, and they ain't none of 'em got loads so heavy but
what three of 'em can carry all the stuff there is; so that if anything
should happen to either of our riding horses we can still have a horse
apiece to ride. Maybe it might be a pretty good thing to take along an
extra saddle horse or two. I don't know as it would, and I don't know
_as_ it would. Of course for awhile we've got to picket all these
horses, and when you've got to do that, every extra horse makes a lot of
trouble, and makes another rope to lose. We'll have to think about that
and I reckon I'll ask Jo if he knows of any one of these horses that's
good to stay about camp; easy caught, and yet is pretty fast. You see,
pretty nearly all these is new horses, and I don't know much about
them."
By this time the afternoon was well advanced; the sun was still shining
warmly, and the snow which had fallen in the morning was melting fast.
Hugh and Jack went over to the sunny side of the bunk-house and sat down
there on a log, and Hugh filled his pipe and smoked.
"There's one thing," he said, "we ought to have, but we ain't got it,
and we ain't likely to get it; we ought to have some dried meat to take
along. You see, we won't have no time to hunt, travelling steady, the
way we will, and for a while we'll have to live on bacon. Of course
there'll be a chance to kill an antelope now and then, but until we
strike buffalo we can't expect much fresh meat. I'd like it right well
if we had a little bunch of dried meat, but we ain't got it. If your
uncle had thought best to send back and get some of that beef I
butchered yesterday, we could have dried some of that, but he didn't
want to eat another man's beef, and I don't know as I blame him much. If
he did that this spring, somebody might kill a beef that belonged to him
in the fall, just because he was hungry. Might be such a thing as we'd
get a piece of beef over to Powell's; we'll about make his ranch
to-morrow night, and then that'll be the last place we'll strike till we
get way up north."
"Oh, do we go by Powell's?" said Jack; "I'd like to see all of them
again, Charlie, Bess and Mr. and Mrs. Powell; they were nice to us last
summer."
"Yes," said Hugh, "they're good people. Good neighbours. You know, don't
you," he went on, "Powell bought thirty saddle horses from your uncle
last fall, after you left; he paid fifty dollars a head for 'em, and
sold 'em for sixty-five. He's quite a trader, Powell is."
As they sat there talking, the sound of a cow bell was heard at first
faintly, and a long way off, but it kept getting nearer and nearer. Jack
asked Hugh, "Who gets the milk cows now, Hugh?"
"Jo does. He often says he wishes he had you to send out to bring 'em
in; but that ain't one of the milk cows coming now."
"Well, what is it? I thought it was old Browny's bell."
"No, that's the bell old Browny used to wear, but your elk wears it now,
and that's him a-coming."
Sure enough; a moment afterward an elk stepped out of the brush above
them on the hillside, and came toward the house; it wore a bell, and
besides this, a great strip of red cloth was tied around its neck.
"What in the world is that he's got around his neck, Hugh?" said Jack;
"it looks as if he had a sore throat and had a strip of red flannel tied
around it."
"Well," said Hugh, "he's got the red flannel all right. This spring when
we turned him out Jo was afraid that somebody would shoot him for a wild
elk, so he put the bell on, and that red cloth, and then he told
everybody he met, when he was riding, about it, and I expect there ain't
no one in quite a scope of country but knows about that elk, and just
how he sounds and looks."
Meantime the elk had been slowly approaching, and Jack got up and walked
over toward it. It was just shedding out, and great patches of its body
were smooth and yellow, while other patches were still covered with
long, brownish hair, at the base of which a thick fur or wool could be
seen. Hugh called out to Jack, "You want to look out for him, son; he's
pretty handy sometimes with them fore feet of his, when he ain't in a
good temper; he may strike at you." When Jack heard this he did not go
very close to the elk, but contented himself with walking about it,
while the animal followed him with its great mild eyes. A moment after,
Hugh came up with some salt in his hand and held it out to the elk,
which walked quietly up and licked the salt off his hand.
"I ain't got much use for a tame elk," said Hugh; "they're stupid
critters, and 'most always mean; you never can trust 'em."
"I think just as you do, Hugh; that they're awful stupid; and I would
never again take the trouble to pack a calf into camp."
Presently the elk put down its head and began to feed away from them,
and they went back to their seat in the sun. A little later they went
down to the corral, unsaddled the pack horses, turned them out into the
pasture, and carried the riggings up to the bunk-house. It proved that
Mrs. Carter had four seamless sacks that she could let them have, and
with these they made up four side packs of the goods. The two centre
packs they made up with gunny sacks and canvas, so that when they
started they would only have to lift the packs onto the horses.
The remainder of the day was devoted to laying out their provisions and
their mess-kit. Their cooking utensils were put in a wooden box to go on
the load above their beds. Everything was made ready as far as possible,
so that in the morning there would be nothing to do except to catch and
saddle the horses, put the loads on them, and start.
The day had passed swiftly for Jack, and when night came he was pretty
tired. After supper his uncle talked to him for a little while,
impressing on him the necessity of caution, telling him of the
responsibility that would rest on Hugh, who had charge of him for this
long trip, and explaining to him that now he was starting off to act a
man's part, and that he must exercise a man's discretion. He said, "Hugh
feels very confident that you are old enough, and have had experience
enough, to be trusted. He thinks that you will not be a cause of care or
anxiety to him, but that you will understand that you must now use
common sense and good judgment. I think that his estimate of you is a
fairly just one, but I want you to try to be thoughtful and never let
your boyish enthusiasm get the better of you. We all want you to have a
good time on this trip, but we do not want you to have a good time at
the cost of suffering of any sort to any older person."
"Well, Uncle Will," said Jack, "I have thought a good deal about that,
too, and I know that there may be times when I'll have to use all the
sense I have got, but I have made up my mind to follow Hugh's directions
as closely as I can, and to try not to make a fool of myself."
"That's good," said his uncle; "if you can only keep that in mind all
the time I shall not be anxious about you."
CHAPTER IV.
THE START.
Although Hugh called Jack very early next morning, it already was
daylight and the sun was just rising. Jack saddled Pawnee, rode out into
the pasture and drove in the horses, and before breakfast they had cut
out their pack animals and saddled them, and left them standing in the
corral. The night before, Hugh had laid out their provisions, which were
of the simplest kind; a sack of flour, some corn meal, oat meal, bacon,
coffee, sugar and salt, were all they took. Their mess-kit consisted of
two frying pans, a coffee pot, a small water bucket, a tin pan, a bake
oven, tin plates and cups, and knives, spoons and forks. They took
along, also, a dozen good butcher knives, a new axe and a small hatchet.
Besides this, there was a coil of rope, from which lariats and lash
ropes could be cut, in case of need.
Immediately after breakfast, Jack helped Hugh make up the loads,
although really there was not much that he could do, except to look on
and learn. They were to put the bedding and the mess outfit on one
horse, the provisions on another, and the trade goods were to be carried
by the two others.
Hugh said, "I wanted to get an early start this morning, if we could,
because I expect likely the first day out we'll have some trouble with
the horses. You see, they're fat and fresh, haven't been doing nothing
all winter, and they won't want to travel away from home; so it's likely
we won't go very far, and we'll have a long day. Now, you run down to
the corral, son, and bring up the dun; we'll load him with some of this
trade stuff and see how he does. Maybe you'd better let Jo pack on the
off side this morning, 'cause we want to make these loads stay, if we
can. You'll have plenty of chances to pack before we get back again, and
I expect by the time we ride in here in the fall you'll be a regular old
government packer."
Jack went down to the corral and got the horse. He could not help
feeling a little disappointed that he was not to help put on the loads.
He felt as if, from this morning until the time of their return, he
would like to take an equal share in all the work that was to be done;
still, he could see that what Hugh said was wise, and that it was
important to have the packs well put on this morning, when the horses
were all fresh; so he led the dun up to the bunk-house, and stood back
and watched the packing, trying to follow each operation. While he did
this, he realised that his memory of the few lessons in packing that he
had had the fall before was not very fresh, and this quite reconciled
him to seeing Jo handle the ropes.
The dun laid back his ears, and rolled his eyes, and humped up his back
a little, as the saddle cinches were tightened, but stood quiet while
the packs were put in place, and the manta thrown over them. He jumped a
little as the lash rope touched his hips, when Hugh was preparing to
throw it, but when the first pull was made by Jo, in tightening the
lash cinch he bowed his back, put down his head, and made as if he would
buck. Rube had him by the hackamore, however, and the men on either side
clung to the ropes, and at last he was quieted until all the pulls had
been made and the lash rope was fastened. But soon as Rube let go the
hackamore, and he had taken a step or two and felt the swaying load on
his back, he put down his head and began to buck in good earnest. Round
and round he went, taking high jumps, and throwing his heels so far into
the air that it seemed as if he must turn a somersault every time he
struck the ground. Sometimes the load almost overbalanced, and he
staggered, but the ropes held tight, and at last, tired of the hard
work, he stood still. One of the men walked up to him and led him back
to the bunk-house door, when the ropes were again tightened a little,
and he was once more set free.
By this time Jack had gone down and brought up the black horse, on which
a load was put, but he stood quiet. The provisions were put on the paint
horse, which also was quiet; but the rattling of the dishes in their
wooden box set the bay horse to bucking, though he did not keep it up
long.
"There," said Hugh, when the bay had been caught again, and his load
inspected, "I expect that's about as good as we can make it. Now then,
son, it's time for you and me to saddle up, and then we can roll."
Jack brought Pawnee up to the house, and Hugh soon rode up on old Baldy.
Mr. Sturgis, Mrs. Carter, and Rube and Jo all stood there to watch the
travellers start. Hugh tied a lariat to the hackamore of the bay horse,
and, after shaking hands with every one, started off down the valley;
while Jack, somewhat moved at the parting, shook hands very earnestly
with all, and then, riding out on the hillside, drove the three pack
horses after Hugh. Once or twice he turned about in his saddle and took
off his hat and waved it to the little group standing together by the
bunk-house, who waved their hands or their handkerchiefs in response.
"Dear me!" said Mrs. Carter, as the figures grew smaller and smaller, as
they rode down the valley, "it does seem a shame to let a baby like that
go off into the Indian country. I'll bet his ma don't know what risks
he's taking."
"Pshaw," said Jo, "I tell you that boy's as good as a man; I'd rather
have him for a partner than a heap o' men I know; and the old man's as
good as two men, any day in the week. You bet they'll have an awful good
time, and won't see no trouble. I just wish't I was goin' with 'em."
"No," said Mr. Sturgis, "I don't think they'll have any trouble; Jack's
a level-headed fellow, with a good deal more discretion than most boys
of his age. There's a bare chance of course that they may meet some
hostile Indians, but they're well mounted, and I don't think they'll
have trouble."
For the first two or three miles after their start the horses went on
very well, but about the middle of the morning, those that Jack was
driving began to give him a little trouble. They were now getting into a
country away from their usual range, and began to try to turn about and
go home, and for the next half hour Jack was pretty busily employed
turning back one after another that fell out of line and tried to
retrace its steps. At length Hugh halted and dismounted, and motioning
Jack to drive the pack horses by him, they sat down, and while Hugh
smoked, had a little talk.
"Are they bothering you much?" asked Hugh.
"Yes," said Jack, "they keep trying to go back all the time; and that
Dun is the worst of the bunch; he just won't go on."
"Well, we'll have to try to shove him along as far as Powell's place,
and when they get a little tired, toward afternoon, likely they'll go
better. I wouldn't be surprised though if it wouldn't be a good idea for
us to borrow a horse from Powell, for you to ride during the day. I
don't want you to run Pawnee down, chasing horses; I want to bring him
into the Piegan camp fat, because I expect you'll do all your buffalo
running on him. He's fat and strong now, and you don't weigh much, but
still its pretty hard work running here and there, trying to keep a
bunch of horses together, even if there's only three or four of 'em."
"Yes," said Jack, "I want to keep Pawnee in good shape, but I think that
after the horses get used to their loads, and get used to travelling
together, they'll go better, won't they?"
"I expect they will, and we needn't make up our minds about getting any
horse until we get to Powell's. Maybe to-morrow we'll get Charlie to
ride out with us for two or three hours, and help drive them horses. I
expect if we can get 'em started right to-morrow, they'll go along
pretty good."
After fifteen or twenty minutes they mounted and started on again. The
horses had been feeding busily all this time, and now when they were
driven along after the lead horse, they went more quietly, and made less
trouble. Still, the day seemed a long one to Jack. They passed plenty of
antelope on the prairie, but he had no time to think of them; he felt
obliged to watch the horses constantly, and to keep them as close behind
Hugh as he could. The prairie was full of pleasant sights and sounds,
but there was no chance for him to enjoy them.
He felt very glad when, late in the afternoon, the low buildings of the
Powell place came in sight. Half an hour later they were near enough to
see the men working about the house, and then to see two figures in
skirts come to the door and look out at them, and then at last to hear
the delighted whoop of Charlie and the cheery greeting of Mr. Powell, as
they came forward to shake hands with them. The horses were quickly
unpacked and put in the pasture, the loads put under cover, and then all
the family gathered around Jack and Hugh to hear the news from the
neighbouring ranch.
"So you're really going to make that trip you talked about, are you,
Jack?" said Charlie. "I tell you I'd give all my old boots if I were
going along."
"So would I mine, Charlie," Jack replied. "I'll bet we could have a good
time together. It's a great chance. You see, we're going up into the
buffalo country, and we're going to be with the Indians, and see what
they do and how they live. There ain't many fellows have a chance like
this, and I wish you could be one of 'em."
"Well," said Charlie, "I know I can't; I've got to stay here and chase
around over this prairie, riding for stock and killing wolves, when I
might be going up there with you. It seems pretty hard, but I don't know
as I ought to complain. I know father needs me, and now we're just
getting a good start in stock, and if I were to go away he'd have to
hire somebody to take my place, and he couldn't afford to do that. You
see, father ain't like your uncle; I expect your uncle's a pretty rich
man, but father ain't got anything except what you see here, and what
stock we've got out on the range; then, besides that," he added, "I
don't believe mother would be willing to have me go; she thinks it's
awful dangerous for you and Hugh to go up there alone. We talked about
that often last winter, and she said she didn't believe your mother'd
ever let you go."
"Well," said Jack, "I don't believe there's much danger, because if
there was, Uncle Will wouldn't have been willing to have me go, and I
know he wanted me to. He said from the start that it would be a mighty
good thing for me; and then, besides that, Hugh knows so much about
Indians; they say that he's smarter even than an Indian about reading
the signs of the prairie, and telling who is about, and what's likely to
happen. Uncle Will said that he never would think of letting me go with
any one except Hugh, for he thinks Hugh can carry a person through all
right anywhere."
"I guess that's so; everybody that I ever heard talk about him in this
country says that he's the smartest mountain man that there is. Why,
last fall, after you went away, old Jim Baker and his brother John
passed through here, and they asked especially after Hugh, and when they
learned that he was working over at your uncle's, they turned off and
went over there, two days' travel out of their road, to see him. Jim
Baker didn't say anything, he never talks at all, but John said that
Hugh was one of the old kind; that there were only a few of them left
now in the mountains, and he wanted to see Hugh, and so did his
brother."
"Well," said Jack, "we're going to make the trip, and I believe we're
going to get through all right, and not have a bit of trouble, and I
wish you were going with us."
"So do I wish it, but I know I ain't, so it's no use crying over it."
Lying about the Powell house Jack saw two of the wolf puppies that he
had helped dig out the summer before. They seemed tame enough, a good
deal like big dogs, but they did not make friends with strangers, as
dogs would have done, but instead, moved off out of the way. With
Charlie and Bess, however, they seemed on very good terms, and very
grateful for any petting or attention. The sight of these great beasts
made Jack think a little sadly of his own wolf, Swiftfoot, far away in
New York.
Bess, too, talked with Jack about the trip that he was making, and
seemed to feel a little uneasy about its possible dangers, while Mrs.
Powell said she thought it a shame that Jack should be allowed to go
away off among the Indians, where she was sure he was going to be
killed.
Hugh laughed at her doleful prophecies, and said, "Why, Mrs. Powell,
there ain't a mite o' danger. I wasn't much older than Jack when I first
came out into this country, and I've been travelling about now for more
than forty years, and nothing's ever happened to me. It seems strange
that a sensible woman like you should have such queer ideas."
The journey formed the principal topic of conversation that evening, but
Hugh and Jack remembered to tell Mr. Powell about the cow that had been
killed as they were riding out two days before, and about the swift
punishment that had fallen on the two wolves. When bedtime came, Hugh
and Jack spread their blankets on the kitchen floor, and were soon
sleeping soundly.
Next morning Hugh asked Mr. Powell if he could spare them a saddle
horse, and if he would let Charlie ride a few miles with them, until
they learned how the animals could travel on this second day. If they
went well, the horse could be sent back by Charlie, but if it was
necessary to keep it, Jack would send back a note, asking his uncle to
furnish Mr. Powell with a horse to take its place through the summer.
This morning the horses took their loads better. The Dun bucked a
little, but not nearly so much as the day before, while the other
horses, as soon as their loads were put on and they were turned loose,
began to feed quite contentedly. Jack and Charlie packed on the off
side, both pulling at the ropes, but Jack arranging them, under
Charlie's direction. When they started, the animals fell into line very
promptly, and walked briskly along close behind the lead horse. They
gave no trouble whatever, and seemed to have made up their minds that
they were going somewhere, and must follow Hugh. So about the middle of
the morning Hugh told Charlie that it was not necessary for him to come
any further, and that they would not need to take along the extra horse.
So they shook hands there, and Charlie rode off back to the ranch at a
gallop, while the pack train started on its journey north. Jack felt now
as if they were really cut off, for he knew that they would probably not
see a white face again until they reached the far-away Missouri River.
CHAPTER V.
THE FIRST FRESH MEAT.
All day long the two travelled steadily forward, stopping only once or
twice to look at the packs, and to smoke. The pack horses followed their
leader pretty well, and gave Jack little trouble, so that he was free to
look about him and enjoy the bright sun, the cool breeze, and the birds
and animals that from time to time showed themselves near them. There
was no trail, but Hugh seemed to be travelling north without any land
marks to guide him. During one of their halts Jack asked Hugh where they
would camp that night.
"Well, we can camp most anywhere, for we'll find plenty of water toward
the end of the afternoon. We'll either come on La Bonté, or on some
little creek running into it. There's good feed anywhere, and wood
enough for us, too. I reckon we'll have to picket all the horses
to-night, and maybe every night for the next week, but after that it
will be enough if we picket three of 'em, and let the other three drag
their ropes. After they once get used to being together they ain't none
of 'em likely to wander off, without the whole bunch goes."
"It would be pretty bad if we were to lose our horses, wouldn't it,
Hugh?"
"It sure would," was the reply; "there's mighty few things that's worse
than being left afoot on the prairie. I often wonder how it was in the
old times, when one of the Companies would send a man off to go on foot
two or three hundred miles, with no grub, and one blanket and a copper
kettle, and maybe twelve balls."
"How do you mean, Hugh; twelve balls?"
"Why, don't you know," said Hugh, "in them days, when a man worked for
one of the Fur Companies they only gave him just so much powder and
lead. Of course, ammunition came high then, and they might send a man
off to make a long journey on foot and not give him any grub, and just
six or eight or ten charges for his gun, expecting him to kill whatever
he ate. Travelling in this country in them days couldn't have been much
fun."
"I should think not. But suppose such a man met Indians, and had to
fight; what would he do then?"
"Well," said Hugh, "them men didn't calculate to fight; they calculated
to keep out of sight; and then the Indians weren't right mean then. If
they found a fellow travelling on the prairie they'd charge up to him
and scare him about half to death, but likely they wouldn't hurt him.
Maybe they'd just talk to him and let him go, or at worst they'd take
his gun and his clothes, everything that he had, and turn him loose."
"But then I should think he'd starve to death."
"Well, I expect maybe a good many men did starve to death that nobody
ever heard of. It's a sure thing that lots of men started out to go from
one place to another, and never got to the other place."
"Did you ever have to do that, Hugh?" said Jack.
"No," said Hugh, "I never did. Fact is, I never worked regular for no
fur company, I was always a free trapper, as they called it, until
beaver went out, and trapping was over; then I hired out to the
Government, and took parties of troops around over the country, fellows
that were making maps; and some seasons I guided emigrant trains, and
hunted for posts. One or two years I traded with Indians, working for
Bent and St. Vrain. I liked that about as well as any work I ever did.
Then presently the railroad came along, and I got work with them; and
by-and-by I settled down to kind o' learn the cow-punching trade, and
here I am to-day."
"My, Hugh! you must have seen an awful lot in all this time. How many
years is it since you first came out?"
"It'll be forty-three years next August since I started from old
Kentucky. I was sixteen years old then, and that same fall I got out to
St. Joe, and I have been travelling the prairie ever since."
"Forty-three years ago!" said Jack, thoughtfully; "then you must be
fifty-nine."
"Yes, I am fifty-nine years old, and I expect I look it, don't I?"
"Yes, you do look pretty old, but I think that's because your hair and
beard are white; your face doesn't look old."
"Well, I'm old enough to have learned a heap, and I expect if I was
fifteen years old to-day, and knowed as much as I know now, and was back
in old Kentucky, I'd stop right there."
The sun was drawing toward the western horizon when, on riding over the
crest of the hill, Jack saw a mile or two before him a long winding line
of dark green, which he knew to be the timber that marked the course of
a stream. Many antelope were feeding on the slope down which they
passed, and these seemed to be quite fearless, and moved out of the way
slowly as the train drew near them. The stream was a small one, but
flowed through a wide, level bottom, and Hugh, directing his course
toward a group of cottonwood trees, drew up under them, dismounted, and
throwing down his bridle rein, said, "Let's camp."
In a very short time the loads were taken from the animals, and piled on
the ground at the foot of one of the trees; the saddles were placed on
the packs, and the blankets upsidedown on the saddles, so that any
moisture on them might dry, and the mantas were thrown on the ground
nearby, and would be used at night to cover the riggings and the goods,
so as to protect them from wet in case of rain. A lariat was tied to the
neck of each horse, and they were allowed to wander at will over the
bottom, except old Baldy, whose rope was tied to a bush.
"It's a pretty good thing," Hugh explained, "to have one horse anchored
where you know you can get at him. Might be such a thing that something
would scare these horses and they'd all take off over the bluffs, but if
we've got one riding horse where we can put our hands on him, we can get
'em back easy enough, while if we had to chase 'em afoot it might be a
long, slow business. Now, son," he went on, "you take this kettle and
get a bucket o' water, and I'll start a fire, and we'll have some
supper."
Jack picked up the bucket and started down to the stream, but before he
had taken a half dozen steps Hugh called him back.
"I guess you've forgot something, ain't you?" he said; and then when
Jack looked puzzled, he went on to say, "Now, son, I've got to say over
again to you something that I said last summer; that's a long time ago,
and I don't much wonder you forgot it. We're going into a strange
country now, and we may meet strange people, maybe enemies, so you'd
better just get into the way of packing your gun around with you
wherever you go, it ain't a very heavy load to carry, and you may want
it bad some time."
Jack had not taken off his cartridge belt, and he stepped over and
picked up his rifle, and then went and got the water. By the time he had
returned, Hugh had kindled a fire and had brought quite a pile of wood,
and Jack helped him to gather more; so that before long they had more
than they could use during the night. It did not take long to cook their
simple supper, which consisted only of bacon, bread and coffee. While
they were doing it, Hugh remarked, "I don't believe it's going to rain
to-night, and I don't think it's worth while to put up a tent, unless
you want it."
"No indeed," said Jack, "I'd rather sleep in the open air, unless we're
likely to have a storm."
"Well, let it go at that.
"Now, there's one thing we've got to do, and that is to keep a lot of
picket pins on hand until these horses get wonted. I put a half dozen
hard wood pins in the gunny sack in the mess box, but we'll be losing
them right along, and I believe I'll go to work on an old lodge pole
that's lying over here in the brush and make some pins for to-night. You
might go out and get around them horses and start them back this way;
they're working too far up the creek. Don't chase 'em or scare 'em; just
go around 'em and drive 'em slowly until you get their heads turned this
way. If you should see a buck antelope on the way, you might kill him,
if you can, and we'll put him on one of the packs and take him along."
"I'd like to do that, Hugh, but there ain't much likelihood of seeing an
antelope down in the bottom, is there?"
"Oh, I don't know," said Hugh; "you might see one; or you might jump a
deer out of some of this brush. Don't kill a doe, though; she won't be
no account to eat; and don't go too far, and mind you keep your eye out
for signs. If you see any people, or sign of where people's been lately,
get back to camp as quick as you can."
The horses had been feeding away from camp, and some of them were
already hidden among the underbrush that grew in the valley. Jack walked
over to the foot of the bluffs, and up the stream half a mile, and then,
having got beyond the horses, he walked quietly toward them, turned them
down the stream toward camp, followed them to the edge of the brush, and
saw that they were now busily feeding in the right direction; then he
turned about and walked up the stream.
He had not gone far when he saw in the sand at the edge of the creek the
tracks of two deer, one set quite large, and the other rather small. He
looked carefully about him in all directions but could see nothing,
though the tracks seemed quite fresh. Keeping on up the stream, walking
very quietly, stopping often to look all about him, he came to the edge
of a little meadow, almost surrounded by bushes, and there, as he paused
before stepping out of the brush, he saw near the other side, two deer.
Luckily for him, the gentle breeze was blowing down the stream, and so
the deer did not smell him. When he first saw them their heads were
down, and what first caught his eye was the rapid side-wise motion of
the white tail of one of the animals. Almost as he stopped, the deer
raised their heads, looked about for a moment, and then began to feed
again. He could see that both of them had small horns, and yet one
seemed quite a large deer. They were not far off, only about sixty
yards, and Jack quietly dropped on his knee, slipped a cartridge into
his gun, and made ready to fire. He hesitated a little, for both deer
stood with their hips almost toward him, and he hoped that in a moment
or two they might change their positions, so as to give him a broadside
shot. Presently that very thing happened; the larger deer turned a
little to the left, and then still more, so that its shoulder and side
presented a fair mark. The next time that it raised its head and stood
quite still, Jack drew a very fine bead on it, behind the shoulder and
low down, and fired.
The deer leaped high into the air, and with two or three graceful
bounds, disappeared into the underbrush, followed by its companion. "I
wonder if I missed it," thought Jack; "it don't seem possible that I
could have done that, for it was standing still, and I don't think I
felt a particle nervous. I believe I'll go over there and try to follow
their tracks a little way, anyhow."
When he had reached the place where the deer had been standing, their
hoof-prints were plain in the soil, and following the direction they had
gone, he saw other deep tracks, where they had made long leaps. He was
so interested in following these tracks, that he almost forgot the
question of whether he had missed or not, but suddenly, to his surprise,
as he was puzzling out the tracks, he saw that the leaves of the brush,
through which he was passing, were smeared with blood. "By jimminy!"
thought Jack, "I did hit him! And now I wonder if I can find him."
Looking carefully both for blood and tracks, he soon saw that the deer
was bleeding freely, and that he need no longer look for tracks, since
the blood on the underbrush and the grass and weeds was a constant guide
to him. He had gone only forty or fifty yards, though to him it seemed
much longer, when suddenly he stepped out of the brush at the foot of
the bluffs, and saw, lying a few yards before him, the deer, dead on the
grass. The other deer was standing nearby, looking back, as if puzzled,
and Jack was strongly tempted to take a shot at it, but he reflected
that one deer was more than they could use, and that it would be
wasteful as well as cruel to kill a second.
As Jack stepped out into the open, the other deer stood for a moment
looking at him, and then trotted off up the slope, stopping once or
twice within easy shot, and looking back, but at last disappeared over
the hilltop. The deer on the ground was quite dead, and the position of
the bullet hole showed that it must have been shot through the heart.
Jack drew his butcher knife from its sheath, bled the deer, and began to
butcher it. He had often seen this done by other people, but this was
the first attempt at it that he had ever made, and he found it not so
easy as it looked. He worked slowly and awkwardly, and once was tempted
to give the job up, and go back and get Hugh to do it. Still, he
persevered, and although now the sun had set, he was still cutting and
pulling, absorbed in his task, when a voice at his elbow said, "Well,
you've got some meat, I see;" and looking up, he saw Hugh standing by
him.
"I heard you shoot," said Hugh, "and when you didn't come back, I
allowed you might have trouble getting your meat into camp, and so I
came along. Now, it's getting late and you'd better let me finish that
job."
"I wish you would, Hugh; it's the first animal I ever butchered, and
though I've seen you do it a good many times, I find I don't know how."
"Well, it does look a little bit as if the rats had been gnawing at it."
He took out his own knife and made a few quick cuts, which finished the
work; then, cutting off the deer's head he laid his rifle on the ground,
lifted the carcass on his back, and then, telling Jack to hand him the
rifle, which he rested across the deer's legs before him, he strode off
toward camp.
When they reached camp, Jack saw that the six horses were picketed
close at hand; that the beds were unrolled and spread out on the ground,
beneath one of the larger trees, and that the fire was burning cheerily.
"Now," said Hugh, as he threw the deer's carcass on the ground, "let's
get the jacket off this fellow, and hang him up in the tree to cool."
The operation of skinning the deer and hanging it up did not take long,
but before this was ended, night had fallen. Hugh lighted his pipe, and
then sat by the fire for a little while, staring at it, and Jack lay at
full length beside him, and as they sat there, told Hugh about how he
had found and killed the deer.
"Well, son," said the old man, "I'm mighty glad we got that meat; it'll
make things a heap more comfortable for us for the next few days. Now,
we want to go to bed pretty quick, and get all the sleep we can. You
know the nights are pretty short this time o' year, and we want to be up
by daylight to-morrow morning and change them horses to fresh grass, and
let 'em feed while we're getting breakfast; and then as soon as we're
through, pack up and get started again. We've got a long way to go, and
the quicker we get to the Piegan camp the better I'll be suited. We're
likely to have plenty of delays on the road, and I want to make the best
time I can."
CHAPTER VI.
INDIANS OF OLD TIMES.
The next morning they were up bright and early. The horses were all
standing where they had been picketed the night before, and after the
fire was kindled, Jack and Hugh went to them, took up the picket pins,
and moved each horse so that he might have fresh grass to eat; then
while Hugh prepared breakfast, Jack rolled up the beds and prepared all
the camp furniture except the mess kit for packing. When they loaded the
horses the carcass of the deer was put on one of the packs, and
presently they started off down the creek. That night they camped at the
Platte River, and the next morning crossed it, and kept on north.
For many days they travelled northward, crossing some small streams, and
then coming to the head of Powder River, and journeying along the divide
on its east side. The marches that they made were not very long. The
grass was good, there was plenty of water, and the loads were light; so
that their horses kept in good condition and moved along briskly. After
two or three nights Hugh picketed only four of the horses, permitting
two to drag their ropes, and when morning came these two were found with
the others. A little later he freed one more, and at last another one,
so that finally there were only two horses confined at night. These were
not always the same two, but usually the two riding horses were the ones
on picket.
They made some slight changes in the packs, making two of them lighter
and two heavier; and then, sometimes Jack, instead of riding Pawnee, let
him carry a light pack, and rode the bay, while Hugh sometimes changed
off to the dun or to the paint horse. One day when their stock of fresh
meat was running low, since the deer had been almost eaten up, Hugh
killed a buck antelope, which was in fair order; but they did no
hunting, and travelled steadily.
One afternoon they camped on a small fork of Powder River, and after
camp had been made and the horses picketed, Hugh proposed that they
should take a little walk to the top of a high hill not far off, and see
what could be seen. They started, going rather slowly, and stopping
every now and then to look over the country with the field glass that
Hugh carried. Nothing was seen except the wild animals of the prairie,
and when they reached the top of the hill they sat down and took a long,
long look. Hugh was carefully examining some distant object to the north
when he felt himself pushed by Jack, and glancing around, saw that he
was lying flat on the ground. Hugh very slowly lowered his head, and
turning, looked in the direction in which Jack pointed. Coming up out of
the ravine not far away, he saw a good sized grizzly bear, and following
her, two little cubs. The cubs were still very small, and were cunning
little creatures. They ran about fast yet clumsily, sometimes attacked
each other and had a pretended fight, stood up on their hind legs and
sparred at each other with their front paws, and then one chased the
other as he ran wildly off over the hillside. Every now and then the
mother would stop to look at them, and she seemed to take pleasure in
their high spirits. Now and then she stood up on her hind legs and
looked in all directions, and she was now so close to the top of the
hill that they could see her wrinkle her nose as she sniffed the air.
Jack whispered to Hugh, "Ain't they beauties! Wouldn't I like to have
them back at the ranch. There's no way we could catch 'em and take 'em
along, is there?"
"No," whispered Hugh; "the only thing you can do is to kill 'em."
"By Jove, I don't want to do that; they're too cunning."
The little family was now quite near the top of the hill, but was
passing around it. Again the mother stood on her hind legs to look, and
while she was doing this one of the cubs rushed up in front of her and
sprang into the air, grasping her around the chest and the mother closed
her arms about it and put her head down. The whole act seemed like the
springing of a child into its mother's arms, and the mother kissing the
child.
[Illustration: "THE MOTHER KISSING THE CHILD."--_Page 49_]
"By mighty!" said Hugh, "I can't shoot at that bear, and I don't believe
you can either, son."
"Not much, we'll let them go."
They lay there and watched the bears go around the hill, and presently
the old one saw the horses and the camp equipage far below in the
valley. She stood on her hind legs and looked for a long time,
evidently much puzzled as to what these strange objects were, but after
looking for awhile she came down on all fours again, called her young
ones to her by a low cry, trotted off around the hill out of sight, and
then made her way back as she had come.
They watched her for a long time, until she was hidden behind the swells
of the prairie, and then Jack sat up and said to Hugh, "That's the
prettiest thing I ever saw, and I don't feel as if I ever could shoot at
a bear again after seeing it."
"Well," said Hugh, "that's saying a good deal, but I tell you I wouldn't
have shot at that bear for a farm."
The sun was low when they reached camp on their return. They had eaten
when they made camp, but Hugh said that he believed that Jack could eat
again, and they cooked a little meat and warmed up some of the coffee
that was in the pot, and made up a good fire, by which they sat for a
long time.
Hugh said, "I reckon this is about the last regular camp fire we can
have. We're getting up into the country now where we're liable to run
across Indians, and while I don't think there's a mite of danger to be
looked for from any of 'em, still I'd just as leave they wouldn't see
us."
"What Indians live in this country, Hugh?"
"Well," said Hugh, "the fact is it's Cheyenne country, but Sioux and
Cheyennes live here, and Crows come into it; fact is, it's a kind of
anybodys' country. The Piegans come down here and make war on the Crows
and Cheyennes, and in old times the Pawnees used to come up here on
their war journeys. You've got to keep your eye open here for all sorts
of Indians."
"Well, Hugh, these Indians haven't always been hostile, have they?"
"Not so; there was a long time when they were friendly with everybody.
It was only after white people began to come into the country and make
trouble of one sort and another that the Indians got bad. You see, the
white people didn't know nothing about Indians, and had a kind of an
idea that the whites owned the whole country, and the Indians thought
that they owned it, because they always had, up to that time; and then
there was young men that stole white men's horses and likely some of 'em
got killed; so that, on the whole, you can easy see how the wars began;
they started about twenty-five years ago. Up to that time the tribes had
been all pretty friendly. I won't say that there wasn't bad young men
that did bad things, but the old men didn't approve of that, and when
they could catch their young men doing anything o' that sort they'd
punish them. Why, from 1851 to 1854, I was trading with Indians right
along; that is, in winter."
"I wish you'd tell me about that, Hugh."
"Why, sure, I'll tell you all there is to tell. I hired out to old
Corcoran one fall. He had a trading post down on the Platte, a little
way east of the forks, and the Indians used to come in there sometimes,
but there was other posts, and he didn't get as much trade as he thought
he ought to; so he hired me to travel around to the camps, and stop with
the Indians and trade with them, and fetch in what furs I got to the
post. I started out that first winter with a big wagon, hauled by bulls,
and with quite a lot o' trade goods, to find the Cheyenne camp. I
remember we'd heard that they were up on Horse Creek, and I started up
there. It took me a long time to get there, for bulls don't travel very
fast, you know, and when I got there I found they'd moved over onto the
Platte, so I had to follow 'em there, and when I got there they were
just moving out to go further up the stream, to above where Fort Laramie
stands, and I had to trail along with 'em. However, at last they got
located for the winter, and I went into Spotted Wolf's lodge and lived
there with him. After I got there and unpacked my goods, Spotted Wolf
sent a crier out through the camp, and told the Indians that I was there
and ready to trade, and before very long I had my store agoing."
"Well, what did you trade to them, Hugh?" asked Jack.
"Well, there's one thing I didn't trade to 'em, and that is whiskey.
That was before the days when anybody thought of trading liquor to the
Indians, though of course now and then in a fort they gave a man a dram,
as they called it; but in them days there wasn't never no trading of
liquor. I had tobacco and red cloth, and beads and little mirrors, and
some silver coins that they used to hammer out plates from to wear on
their heads."
"Oh, I know! I've seen pictures of Indians with great silver plates on
their scalp locks, and big ones at the top and little ones running down
to the end."
"That's it, that's just what I mean. Well, I lived pretty near the
whole winter in that camp. The Indians had plenty of dried meat and back
fat, and tongues, and we lived well. Once in a while I'd go out up into
the hills and kill a deer, or a couple of antelope; and two or three
times the buffalo came close to the camp, in good weather, so that we
made a killing; so we had fresh meat during a good part of the winter.
Along in the end of February or first of March I had all the robes and
furs that my team could haul, and I started back. I'd taken a half breed
boy with me to drive the bulls, and we got along all right till we got
down pretty close to Scott's Bluffs. When we got there I noticed that
one of the bulls was kind of sick. I didn't know what was the matter
with him. We drove along till night, and camped, and the next morning
that bull was dead. We went on, and the next day two more of the bulls
seemed sick, and the next morning they were dead; so we couldn't go no
further. I unloaded the wagon, piled up the bales of robes all around
it, went into camp there, and sent the boy on to old Corcoran, to get
some more bulls. I expected him back in about six or seven days, but I
was eighteen days there in camp before he showed up again. I tell you,
them was long days, too. Nothing to do except to sit there and watch
them bales of fur, and cook three meals a day. I got terrible tired of
it."
"After I'd been there about a week, one morning I saw an Indian dog on
the prairie, about a hundred yards off. He was sneaking around, looking
this way and that way, and when he saw me move about the camp, he just
sat down and watched me. I walked outside my stockade and called to him,
but he didn't pay no attention, just sat there. I was kind of uneasy
when I saw him, for I thought maybe a party of Indians might be coming
along, and if they did, and took a notion to them furs, there was
nothing to stop them carrying 'em all off; but nobody showed up. The
next morning the dog was still there. I went out and walked toward him,
but as fast as I walked toward him, he walked away, and I couldn't get
nearer than about a hundred yards; so I went back to the robes and
figured what I should do. I wanted to get hold o' that dog, for I was
powerful lonesome, and I thought he'd be kind o' company. I went back to
the camp, and when I got there the dog had come back to the place where
he was at first and was settin' there. I took a piece of dried meat and
went out to where the dog was, and there I scattered a few chips of meat
on the ground, and then went back to camp, and every few feet as I went
I'd cut off a little piece of meat and drop it on the ground. When I got
back, the dog had come to the place where I put the first meat, and was
nosing around, picking it up, and after a while he struck the trail of
meat toward camp, and came along pretty slowly, pretty shy and
suspicious, until he was about half way between the place where he
started and the stockade. He wouldn't come any further than that. I sat
on the bale of robes and talked to him, and called him, and coaxed him,
and he'd look at me and put back his ears and wag his tail, but he was
afraid. I worked with that dog that way three days, before I could get
him inside of the stockade, but on the fourth day he would come to me,
as I sat by the fire, and take pieces of meat out of my hand, and after
a while he lay down on the other side of the fire and went to sleep.
That night I got my hand on him and patted him, and coaxed him, and then
he saw that I was friendly, and from that time he wasn't afraid. I tell
you he was good company to me, and I got to think a heap of him before
that half breed got back. He was a pretty nice looking dog, too; had
dark brown hair, so that he looked some like a beaver; so I called him
Beaver. He got to know his name right soon, and he stayed with me for
four years; and one time, when I was in the Cheyenne camp, he
disappeared. I always believed some of them Cheyenne women got hold of
him and killed him for a feast."
"Well, that's a good story, Hugh. I wish I could have been the boy that
drove that team. I'd like to have spent a winter in an Indian camp; and
above all, in those old times."
"Yes, son, I expect you'd have liked it right well. There was a heap o'
difference between Indians then and now; they were right good people
then, they hadn't picked up many white men's ways; so long as you
treated 'em well they gave you the very best they had, and all you
wanted of it. There wa'nt any beggars then, and the men you made friends
with couldn't do enough for you. Of course when I went into old Spotted
Wolf's lodge, and used it for a store and a boarding house, I made him
some little presents, like two or three yards of red cloth, and three or
four strings of beads and a mirror or two to his women. That is all it
cost me to stop there all winter, board, lodging and mending all
attended to for me."
"Well," said Jack, "I wish I could have seen some of those old days."
"You're going to see a heap this summer, son, that will be new to you,
and you'll see a lot of old-time Indians and old-time Indian ways, up
where we're going."
By this time darkness had fallen, and the sky was full of stars. The
fire had burned down, and the air was growing cool. They spread their
beds, and before long were sleeping soundly.
CHAPTER VII.
AN INDIAN WAR PARTY.
When Hugh and Jack started next morning the sky was overcast, and a cold
wind blew from the north. Before they had travelled far, it began to
rain. Soon the rain changed to snow and it grew very cold. They put on
their coats and slickers, and for an hour or two travelled through a
howling snow-storm. Suddenly the wind ceased, the snow stopped falling,
the sun came out, and it grew very warm. The snow which had covered the
ground speedily melted, and again they travelled along over a summer
prairie.
It was near mid-day when Hugh suddenly drew up his horse, and motioned
to Jack to ride up beside him. He pointed to the ground, where Jack saw
many old tracks of horses, and besides these, a half dozen ruts in the
soil, like those made by wagon wheels, but irregular, moving from side
to side as they proceeded, and looking as if something had been dragged
along the ground, following in some degree the inequalities of its
surface. Jack could see that these marks, as well as the hoof prints,
had been made a good while before, yet after the grass had begun to grow
in the spring. The trail pointed nearly in the direction which they were
following, so that by keeping on, they would cross it at an acute angle.
"There, son," said Hugh, "there's been a camp of people along here."
"Indians?"
"Yes, quite a bunch of 'em. There was quite a band of horses, and the
lodge poles and travois, as you see, make a pretty big trail. I expect
there must be a dozen lodges of 'em at least; maybe more."
"Oh," said Jack, "I was wondering what those queer marks were; those are
the travois, are they?"
"Yes, them and the lodge poles. You know, when they're moving over the
prairie they tie a bunch of lodge poles on either side of the horse,
over his withers, and the big ends of the poles drag on the ground;
that's what's cut the prairie up this way. Them people are going pretty
near the same way we're going, but it's three or four weeks since
they've passed. I've a notion we'll follow this trail for a while, and
see which way they're going. If they seem to be going the same way we
are, we'll branch off and travel closer to the mountains, where the
country is rougher and there's more timber."
Hugh rode on, close by the trail, and Jack followed, driving the pack
horses. A mile or two further along, Hugh stopped again, and Jack rode
up to him. Hugh pointed again to the ground before him, and then got off
and carefully inspected a moccasin track in the trail that looked much
fresher than the others. "Well," said he, as he stood up after looking
carefully at it, "I don't like that very much. Somebody's been along
here quite a while after the bulk of these people passed. It's hard to
tell much about that track, because it's been rained on, but it looks to
me as if it wa'n't more'n a day or two old. You go back and drive the
horses on slowly, and I'll see whether I can make anything out of this
fresh trail or not."
For an hour or two Jack followed Hugh, who went on quite slowly,
frequently dismounting and looking at a track, and then sometimes going
on foot for some little distance before mounting again. At length the
trail bore off considerably to the right, and here Hugh left it and
struck off sharply to the left. A little later, he called Jack up to him
and said, "There seems to be seven or eight men following that trail on
foot, and I expect likely it's a war party that's going to try to catch
that camp and steal their horses. If that's so, you and me want to get
as far away as we can, and I expect the best thing we can do is to
strike off toward the mountains, and when we camp to-night to cache as
well as we can; and maybe we'll take an early start to-night, after the
horses have fed and got rested, and make a quick drive, camping pretty
early in the morning, and starting out again just before night, and ride
half the night. I don't want to get mixed up in no squabbles between any
Indians that we're likely to meet here a way."
They rode on pretty rapidly. Down in a little hollow they stopped,
looked carefully over the packs, tightened all the saddles, and then
remounting, started at a still better pace, trotting wherever it was
level or down hill, and only walking the horses on the steeper slopes.
By this time it had become very hot. Jack had tied his slicker and coat
on behind the saddle, but was still uncomfortable under the broiling
rays of the sun.
It was late in the afternoon when they reached the valley of a stream,
and instead of camping in the broad open bottom, which offered a good
place to picket the horses, Hugh rode up the stream to where the valley
was dotted with frequent clumps of willows, and riding in among these,
halted at the edge of a thick clump, midway between the stream and the
bluffs.
"Let's unsaddle here," he said, "and tie up the horses among these
willows; they ain't so likely to be seen, if anybody happens to look
into the creek bed. We'll just build a little fire here, and cook, and
then put it right out. I don't want to make no smoke if I can help it."
The loads of the horses and the camp were well concealed, and after the
animals had drunk, they tied them rather short to the clumps of brush,
intending to move them from time to time to fresh grass.
Although the sun was low now, it was still intensely hot; and down in
the bottom, shut in by the bluffs, there was no air stirring. The willow
brush, too, cut off what little wind blew up or down the creek, and Jack
felt as if he were almost choked. They cooked and ate, and after they
had done that, Hugh said, "I'm going up this ravine, back of camp, to
get on a hill and take a look. You'd better stay here and watch the
horses. Don't move around much, and if you see anybody, just keep out of
sight all you can. Of course if anybody tries to take any of the horses,
why you'll have to shoot, but I don't expect you'll see no one. I'll be
back here pretty quick." Putting his pipe in his pocket, Hugh picked up
his gun and disappeared in the willows, and Jack sat and sweltered in
the heat.
Presently, he thought he would go down to the brook and get a drink; so
he walked down there, and stood on a little gravelly beach, over which
the water poured with a cool, merry rattle. In the stream there were
little fish, and as his shadow fell upon it, they darted in all
directions, in great alarm. He drank of the water, but it was not so
cool as it looked, and then he wet his hands and his wrists and his
head. This gave him some relief, and he thought he would take off his
clothes and wet his body all over in a pool a foot or two deep, at the
foot of the ripple. He put his gun down at the edge of the willows,
quickly stripped off his clothes, stepped into the pool, and lay down in
it. This was delicious. In a moment he forgot how hot he had been just
before, and the water almost reminded him of the morning's ride through
the snow storm. Still, as soon as he raised his body out of the stream
he was warm enough again. After ducking under two or three times, he
happened to look toward his clothes, and as he did so his heart almost
stopped beating.
Standing by his clothing and gun, was a tall half-naked man with a robe
hanging from his waist and an eagle feather tied in his head. He stood
leaning on his gun and looked at Jack with a broad grin of triumph,
which showed his white teeth. He did not have the long straight hair of
an Indian; it was crisp and curled tight to his head, and his skin was
not brown, but was black; in fact, he looked like a negro. All this Jack
saw, but he had no time to reason about it. He realised only the one
thing, that the man was standing over his gun and cartridge belt, while
he was naked and unarmed. Jack cast a glance over his shoulder, with a
half formed idea of running away, but in this direction there was no
hope, for standing on the opposite bank of the stream, and within a few
yards of him was an Indian. About this one, there could be no mistake;
his brown trunk was naked, crossed by a belt which held a quiver, the
feathered arrows projecting above his left shoulder; on either side of
his face, his long hair hung down in braids, and in his right hand he
carelessly held a bow and a sheaf of arrows. Crossing his body, over the
right shoulder and under the left arm, was a coil of raw hide rope. Jack
was surrounded. There was no escape.
Jack did not know what to do. He had never before felt so utterly
helpless. He wished he had stayed at camp as Hugh had told him to, but
it was all so quick that he was conscious of nothing except a horrible
sinking of the heart, and this feeling that he was helpless. These men
could kill or capture him. He could make no resistance. Before he had
time to think, the man standing by his clothes raised his open right
hand above his head, and moved it toward Jack, at the same time saying:
"Keep quiet, don't be scared, sonny, you ain't agoin' to be hurt. I want
to talk to you."
The sound of these words, spoken in English, gave Jack a tremendous
sense of relief; it didn't seem that any one that spoke so good
naturedly could wish to harm him. At that moment the Indian behind him
called across to the other, and two or three sentences were exchanged
between them. Then the negro, for such he proved to be, called out,
"Come ashore, sonny, and put your clothes on. Don't be scared, you
won't get hurt. I'll just move your gun a little, though, so it won't be
in your way and then we'll talk." Saying this, he moved the gun and
cartridge belt a few yards from the pile of clothing, and standing
between Jack and his weapons, motioned towards the clothes which Jack
began to put on. Then he said, "Where ye goin'?"
Jack had to swallow two or three times before he could speak aloud then
he answered in a voice that shook a good deal, "We're going up north to
the Piegan camp."
"What ye goin' to do there?" came next.
"We're going to visit John Monroe, and stay in the camp all summer."
"Who's them Piegans ye're talkin' about?" said the negro.
"Why," said Jack, "they're a tribe of Indians up north."
"Who's John Monroe, ye was speaking of?" said the negro.
"He's a half breed, Hugh says, that was raised in the Piegan camp;
always lived with them. He was down last summer to our ranch, and he
asked Hugh and me to come up this summer and visit him."
On receiving this reply, the negro thought for a little while, and then
talked in the unknown tongue to his companion, who had now crossed the
stream and was standing near Jack. After the two had spoken for a few
moments, the negro again turned to Jack, and said, "Who's that old man
ye're travellin' with?"
"That's Hugh Johnson," said Jack; "he works on my uncle's ranch, down
south."
Suddenly the negro threw back his head and laughed very heartily for a
long time; then he said to Jack, "Come on, sonny, and get your gun;
we'll go to your camp with you. Seems queer, you all goin' up to see the
Piegans, meet a Piegan war party down here. I'm a Piegan, myself. This
here's young Bear Chief, and there's five other young men in this brush
all around us. We see you when you come down, and young Bear Chief see
the old man, and knowed him; but I thought we'd better make sure, and
when he went upon the hill, and you come down here and went in swimmin',
I thought we'd talk to you. You see, we're friendly," and he stepped up
to Jack and shook hands with him heartily, and the Indian did the same.
"My name's Hezekiah Alexander," said the negro. He seemed delighted to
have an opportunity to talk English. "I have been with the Piegans
more'n twenty years. I was raised down in Tennessee, myself. I belonged
to old Marster Alexander. One day the overseer give me a terrible hard
whipping and I run. I was only thirteen years old. I smuggled myself on
board a Memphis packet, and got across to the Illinois side, and worked
north mighty quick. I came up into this country as boy for Mr.
Culbertson, of the American Fur Company, but I didn't stay long with
him, but joined these Indians, and been with 'em ever since. I got a
wife and four babies in the camp: you'll see 'em this summer."
Jack had passed so quickly from despair to joy, and from joy to
confidence that he had hardly recovered his self-possession or his voice
as yet. Carrying his gun he led the way up to the camp, where, as soon
as he came in sight of it, he saw Hugh standing, frowning, as if angry
or puzzled, and holding his gun in the hollow of his left arm. As soon
as they were close to camp, Jack called out, "It's all right, I guess,
Hugh; these are Piegans;" but Hugh's expression did not alter until the
Indian stepped up to him, and tapping his own breast, as he said,
"_Nínnah okyaíyu_," stretched out his hand toward him. Then Hugh's face
changed, and he smiled in recognition as he said, "Why, so it is," and
shook hands very heartily with the young man.
While Hezekiah and Bear Chief talked eagerly to Hugh in the Piegan
tongue, Jack had time to recover his equilibrium, and when he had done
this he stared at the two strangers with all his eyes. They were dressed
almost alike, but while Bear Chief's face was painted, Hezekiah's was
not, and showed a thin mustache, but no beard. Bear Chief's scalplock
hung down to between his shoulders, and was ornamented by a large flat
pink shell, two inches in diameter. Hezekiah, of course, had no side
braids, but he had a little short scalplock, which stuck straight out
behind from his woolly head, and at the base of this, an eagle's feather
was tied. Jack noticed that as the two talked with Hugh, Hezekiah
frequently laughed loudly, while Bear Chief's face was always grave and
earnest. Presently the Indian rose to his feet, and strode off into the
brush, while the negro turned to Jack, and said, with a broad grin, "I
expect you was pretty scairt, sonny, when you see me standing by your
gun just now."
"Yes," said Jack, "I was. I never was so badly scared in my life, and I
didn't know what to do. I tell you," he added, turning to Hugh, "I
wished I'd stayed in camp, as you told me to."
"Yes," said Hugh, gravely, "that's what you ought to have done. If these
fellows had been anything else but Piegans, you'd have been killed,
likely, and me, too. These men made the tracks we was looking at this
morning; they followed that trail that we was on, until they came to
where the people had camped, and then they saw that they'd been gone so
long, it wa'n't no use to follow 'em, and they left the trail and struck
up toward the mountains, to rest. They've been out quite a long time.
Where was the camp," he continued, turning to Hezekiah, "when you left
it?"
"They was camped on the Mussel-shell," answered the negro, "but they
talked of moving up north onto the Marias before long. I expect you'll
find 'em there; or, maybe further north, either near the Sweet-grass
Hills, or maybe over close to the mountains; maybe over by Chief
Mountain, or on some stream near it."
A moment later, Bear Chief returned accompanied by another Indian, and
after speaking a few words to Hugh, sat down, and taking his fire bag
from his belt, drew out a large, curiously carved, black stone pipe and
its stem, fitted them together, and drawing his knife, commenced to cut
some tobacco. One by one, other Indians came marching into camp, until,
including Hezekiah, there were seven there. They were a stalwart group
of men, all young, yet full grown, except two, who were boys, one of
them about Jack's age, and the other a little older. As they talked,
Hezekiah gave Jack a hasty sketch of what they had done since they left
the Piegan camp. They had seen no enemies, and made no war. Once, as
they were travelling along, they saw, far off, people coming, making a
great dust. They hid on top of a high butte, and watched these people,
who passed within a half mile of where they were. They were soldiers,
and the Indians kept very close until they had passed out of sight, and
then started on to put as great a distance as possible between
themselves and the troops. Their food gave out at one time, and they
were two days without anything to eat; then, one of the young men killed
an elk, and they feasted, and dried a little of the meat. The next day a
buffalo bull was killed, and they dried more meat; and since then had
had plenty to eat. Now they were thinking of turning their steps
northward, following close along the foot-hill of the mountains, hoping
to find some camp of enemies, and take some horses.
While they were talking, Hugh built a fire, and gave half an antelope to
two of the young men to roast, while he baked some bread and made a pot
of coffee. Then the Indians were invited to eat, and feasted on the
unwonted luxuries. Again, Bear Chief filled the pipe, and as they sat
around in a circle, it passed from hand to hand, each one, except Jack,
drawing in several whiffs of the smoke; and each one, also, holding the
stem in succession toward the sky, the earth, and the four points of the
compass, and speaking a few words. Jack at the time did not understand
what this meant, but Hugh afterward explained to him that they were
offering prayers. After this was over, Bear Chief stood up and
tightened his belt about his waist, and all the others did the same;
then, after a few words with Hugh, all gravely shook hands with the two
whites, and they filed into the brush. Hezekiah remained a moment behind
the others, and said, "Well, good-bye, Mr. Johnson, good-bye, sonny;
you'll get to camp before we do, but we'll be pretty close behind you. I
don't expect we're goin' to make no war this trip; I dreamed we
wouldn't. Don't feel hard toward me, sonny, 'cause I scared you to-day.
I wouldn't o' done it, only I was afraid ye might run for your gun, and
shoot some of us, if I didn't get there first. Good-bye," and he
followed the Indians into the willows. A little later, Hugh and Jack
caught a glimpse of them, walking in single file up the valley, their
brown bodies glistening in the sun, and the feathers in their heads
nodding as they walked.
"Well, son," said Hugh, "I don't know which of us was the most scared
this afternoon, but if you was scared as bad as I was, I'm mighty sorry
for ye."
"Well, Hugh, nobody could have been scared as badly as I was. I expected
to feel the arrows going through me every second, for a little while.
Why, when I first saw Hezekiah standing there I thought I'd die. If he
hadn't spoken right away I don't know what I'd have done. It don't seem
as if I could have stood it. It seemed the longest time after I'd seen
him before he spoke, and yet it couldn't have been more than half a
minute. When I first saw him standing there smiling, I thought he was
just laughing because he'd got me, but when he made that sign and spoke
English I felt like crying, I was so glad."
"Well," said Hugh, "you've got to be more careful; you hadn't no
business to go away from camp to-day, and if you'd got killed, I don't
know what I'd have done."
CHAPTER VIII.
DODGING INDIANS.
The night after Jack's capture by the Piegans passed quietly and very
early the next morning they continued their journey, travelling fast,
but very cautiously. At every considerable rise of the prairie which
gave a wide view over the country, Hugh halted Jack and the animals, and
went alone to the top of the hill, from which he scanned the prairie
with care before showing himself. Once or twice signs of people were
seen, but in each case the trail was an old one, made in spring when the
ground was wet and the grass just starting.
One day after they had made camp, Hugh left Jack to watch the horses,
and climbed on foot to the top of a lofty butte nearby. When he returned
to camp he told Jack that they must move on as soon as it was dark, and
they gathered up the horses and brought them close to camp, and soon
after the sun had set, packed and rode away.
"There's a camp of people down the creek, not very far off," Hugh said.
"From the top of the hill I saw two sets of hunters carrying their meat
to camp, and two or three miles below here I saw an old woman gathering
wood. I don't know who the people are, likely enough they're Crows, and
friendly; but they may be Sioux or Cheyennes, and I don't want to take
no chances; so we'd better pack up and light out. Them Piegans will
think they missed a great chance when they didn't stay with us."
"I suppose there's some danger that some of these hunters might walk
right into our camp at any time," said Jack.
"Yes," said Hugh, "I'm kind o' surprised they didn't do it. We'll be
lucky if we get off without them seeing us. From now on, until we cross
the Yellowstone we've got to go pretty careful; that'll be in two or
three days though, I hope."
"Why," said Jack, "are we as close to it as that?"
"Yes," said Hugh, "if we could go straight ahead, and travel fast
without stopping, we could get there in two days."
They travelled almost all the night, and toward morning Jack grew very
sleepy. By this time the pack horses were so well trained that they
needed no driving whatever, but kept along close behind the horse that
Hugh led; so Jack dozed in his saddle through the latter half of the
night. Toward morning it grew quite cool, and he put on his coat. The
country had now become rough with high hills, and they were following
the valley of a river, on either side of which steep buffs stood
outlined against the sky. Suddenly Hugh stopped his horse, all the pack
horses came to a stand, and Jack was aroused from his doze by the sudden
halting of his horse. He could see the animals just ahead of him, but
could not see Hugh. Presently, however, he heard a horse's tread, and in
a moment Hugh stopped beside him and said, "We've got to get out of
this; there's a camp down the creek; I just heard a dog bark. We'll turn
up this side ravine, and travel until it gets light, and then cache in
the brush, or in the timber, if there is any."
An hour later, with the horses they were hidden in a great patch of plum
brush and pine trees, near the head of the ravine. Not far away was a
high conical hill which overlooked the valley that they had left, and
Hugh, climbing to the summit of this, walking all the time among the
pines, looked up and down the valley. Almost beneath him, so near that
it seemed as if he might fire a rifle ball into it, stood the lodges of
a camp, all unknowing of the watcher.
Hugh stayed there for a long time, to see what the Indians were doing,
and, also, to learn, if possible, what they were likely to do; that is
to say, whether they would probably stay where they were, or were
getting ready to move.
They had been there a long time. All through the camp the grass was worn
from the ground; well-beaten trails led about through the sage brush and
a course for playing the stick game had been cleared of brush and
stones. All about the camp were drying-scaffolds, hung with strips of
meat, some of it dry and brown, some bright red, and some almost white.
Hugh wished that he had Jack with him, so that he might point out to him
all the features of the camp. He was too uneasy, however, to think much
about that. He watched the direction taken by the men as they left the
camp, and saw that most of them went off up and down the creek, though
some crossed it and rode up a broad valley that came down through the
bluffs on the other side. On the tops of some of the lower hills he
saw, standing or sitting, the figures of men wrapped in their robes or
summer sheets, but all had their faces turned toward the valley, or up
or down the stream; none looked back toward the hills. Hugh grumbled a
little to himself, as he lay there, and said, "Yes, that's all right,
but suppose some old squaw, with her dog and travois, should come up our
ravine after a load of wood. Then where'd we be? The dog would sure
smell us, and we'd have to catch the old woman, and maybe kill her, or
else she'd have the whole camp buzzing about that brush patch, like a
nest o' bees."
About the middle of the day he turned to go back, and before he had got
half way to the horses, he saw just what he had feared. An old woman,
followed by a dog dragging a small travois, was slowly making her way up
the ravine.
Hugh travelled along among the pines, watching her to see what she would
do, and it was with great satisfaction that he saw her stop more than a
mile below the horses, and commence to attack a fallen pine stick, with
the great stone maul that she carried. She worked for more than an hour,
and at length, having collected a large pile of wood, she bound a part
of it on the dog travois, made up another huge bundle which she lifted
on her own back, and then started down the ravine to return to the camp.
When Hugh reached the horses Jack was not there, but presently he crept
into camp through the brush, looking anxious and worried. His face
lighted up when he saw Hugh, and he said, "What was that hammering and
chopping I heard down below, Hugh? I listened to it, sitting here,
until I couldn't stand it any longer, and then I crept out to the edge
of the brush to see what it was."
Hugh told Jack about the woman, and said, "Now, just as soon as it gets
dark, we've got to start over to the other creek, and take down that. I
want to put fifteen or twenty miles behind us before we stop, but when
we do stop we've got to let these horses feed, and give 'em some water.
I believe the best thing we can do is to keep on the divide, after we
get up there, and not travel down these river valleys. The country seems
to be full of Indians. Just as soon, though, as we can get across the
Yellowstone we'll be out of the range of these people and not likely to
meet anybody, except Piegans, and maybe Crows or Gros Ventres; they'll
all be friendly."
The horses had been tied up to trees all day long and had had no chance
to eat, though their packs had been taken off so that they were pretty
well rested. As it grew dark they were packed again, and Hugh led the
way up onto the plateau, along which they rode almost the whole night.
Toward morning they came to a little stream, and camped in the
underbrush on the edge of a little park, where they let the horses feed
until day, and then brought them into the brush and tied them up. After
the sun had risen they built a small fire, cooked some food, and then
put the fire out.
"Now, son," said Hugh, "you lie down and go to sleep, and I'll go up
onto this hill, and stand guard. I'll call you about the middle of the
day, and let you watch till nearly night. I feel pretty sleepy,
myself." Jack took his robe, and spreading it out of sight in the
willows, was soon fast asleep.
The sun was well toward the west before Hugh's hand on his shoulder
awoke Jack, who sat up, bewildered for a moment, not knowing where he
was.
"Come, son," said Hugh, "it's near the middle of the afternoon; you go
up on that hill and watch for awhile, and I'll sleep. Just about sunset
you come down and wake me, and we'll eat, and pack up and go on. Keep a
good lookout, and don't show yourself, and if anybody should come right
close, just slip down through the gulch and come back here to me. These
people ain't got no idee that we're around, and I don't want 'em to
have." Jack took his gun and started up the hill, and Hugh took his
place in the bushes and went to sleep. For some time nothing was to be
seen from the hill-top, but an hour before sunset Jack saw three
horsemen come in view, riding across the plain, as if they were going
from the river bottom on the east, westward toward to camp. They rode
slowly, leading two pack horses, apparently loaded, but they were so far
off that he could not be sure of anything about them, except that they
were people.
A little later he saw something move on the hillside close to him, and
for a moment was startled; then, as the object came into view, he saw
that it was only a little kit-fox. The first that appeared was followed
by three others, and the four moved up over the grass, quartering the
ground, and smelling here and there, almost like hunting dogs when they
work ahead of their masters, searching for birds. Now and then one
would make a sudden pounce in the grass, and then toss up its head and
seem to swallow something. They worked around the hill, most of the time
in sight, but sometimes hidden by elevations of the ground, until they
had passed from Jack's left hand almost to his right; then they stopped
on a little level bench of the hill, in plain view, and while the
largest of the four lay down, the other three had a game of romps, just
such as three puppies might have. One sprang upon another, caught it by
the back of its neck, and seemed to shake it, while the one so attacked
turned on its enemy, caught the skin of its shoulder in its teeth, and
the two rolled over and over, seeming to fight fiercely. After a moment
or two of this, the third puppy plunged at the squirming pair, which at
once separated and dashed away, running as hard as they could, while the
third pursued. They kept this up for some little time and then, seeming
to weary of the play, all three returned to the larger one, and all lay
down close together, so that they formed just a mass of fur, almost the
exact colour of the prairie grass.
Jack waited and watched, but nothing happened. High in the air he heard
the squeaking cry of the prairie night-hawk, and every now and then the
rush of its wings, as it stooped toward the earth. One of the birds
which he was watching, darted to the ground, close to where the little
foxes lay, to their evident astonishment and alarm, for all four sprang
to their feet and looked about as though greatly startled. From the
hillside below him the song of the meadow lark rang out sweet and clear,
and in the brush where the horses were tied and Hugh was sleeping,
there were faint songs and twitterings of birds that were resting there,
or seeking their evening meal. No more people were seen, and when the
sun had reached the tops of the high bluffs to the west, Jack slipped
cautiously down the ravine, and went through the brush to where Hugh
lay. As he approached the spot, Hugh threw off the robe and stood up,
and with a glance at Jack and at the sky, shook himself, and said,
"Well, did ye see anything?"
"Yes," said Jack, "about an hour ago I saw three people leading two pack
horses right over toward where the camp is; but that is all I saw."
"Well, I guess we'd better pack up and make tracks, without lighting any
fire. The chances are no one would see it if we did cook, but we won't
take no risks."
They went into the brush, untied the horses, watered them, and put on
the packs, tying up each horse after his load was secured. When this was
done, Hugh said, "Now I'm going up to the top of the hill to take
another look, and if there ain't nothing in sight, we'll move."
Hugh was not gone long, and when he returned he said, "It's all right, I
guess, but before we get out of this brush we'll stop and take a look
from the other side." They mounted and passed slowly along, crossing the
brook and climbing the opposite hill. Before riding out of the willows,
however, Hugh dismounted, walked to the edge, and looked over the plain
before him. After a moment he turned and signed to Jack to dismount and
to come towards him. Jack did so very carefully, and Hugh pointed out
into the open, where Jack saw a large dog trotting along. "That dog
belongs to the camp," said Hugh, "and likely there are people right
around here. We'll have to wait here until it gets plumb dark. There may
be two or three lodges camped here on this creek, though I can't hardly
believe it. Anyhow, we won't take no chances; we'll stop here till dark.
You go back and stay with the horses, and leave me here to watch."
Jack returned to the horses, and taking the bridles of the two saddle
horses, he stood there with them at the heads of the pack horses,
waiting and listening. It grew darker and darker, and presently a voice
at his elbow said, "Well, that dog's gone off, and I haven't seen or
heard anything; we might as well go too;" and with that they mounted and
rode out over the plain.
They travelled all night, stopping for two or three hours about midnight
to let the horses feed, and when day broke next morning, they could see
far before them the low line of green timber which marked the course of
the Yellowstone River. A little later Hugh rode down into the valley of
a small stream, and they made camp and turned all the horses loose on
the bottom.
"We've got to stay here and watch them horses feed until they get their
bellies full," said Hugh, "and then we'll take and tie 'em up. I'm going
to start to-night, and not stop until we've crossed the river. After we
get on the other side I'll feel that we're safe."
All through the day they watched the horses, and rested and slept, and
at night they set out again on their journey. The next morning found
them riding down into the wide bottom of the Yellowstone, and over
toward the water. It looked deep, swift and turbulent to Jack, but Hugh,
turning to the right, rode down the stream for a mile and a half, and
then descending through a little ravine, rode out into the water. Here
Jack could see that there was a long bar running diagonally across the
river, over which the water rippled, showing that it was not deep. Just
before he entered the stream, Hugh called back, "Keep the horses well
up, son, and don't let them turn off up or down stream. The water's deep
on either side of this bar, but if they follow me they'll go through all
right."
Jack watched Hugh as he rode along, and saw that the water scarcely came
up to his horse's knees until he had nearly reached the opposite bank,
when it suddenly grew deeper and came half way up the horse's side, so
that Hugh had to take his feet out of the stirrups and hold them up, to
keep from getting wet. The water here appeared to run with great
violence, and Hugh turned his horse's head a little up stream so that
the full force of the current would not strike the animal broad side on.
Jack had kept the pack horses close behind Hugh, and they followed him
well, and at last all hands crawled out on the bank.
"Now," said Hugh, as he drew up his horse, "I feel easier in my mind.
We've got past the only place I was anyways nervous about, and from now
on we'll have straight, easy going, if I ain't mistaken."
CHAPTER IX.
A BIGHORN IN CAMP.
The day was spent in the river bottom, all the horses being allowed to
feed at liberty, except one which was picketed. A few hours before
sunset they packed up and travelled north for two or three hours
stopping to camp for the night on the banks of a little stream which
flowed into the Yellowstone River. This valley was narrow, and on either
side high bad-land bluffs rose to the prairie above, which was dry and
already brown, though mid-summer was not yet here. That night they had a
long rest, making up then for the many hours of night travelling and day
watching which they had undergone during the last week.
As usual, Hugh was the first to turn out of his blankets; that is to
say, he was the first to awake and sit up, but before he had freed
himself from the coverings, he saw across the narrow valley, and just
below the top of the bluffs, something that made him call Jack sharply,
but in a low tone of voice. Standing on the bare earth, and scarcely to
be distinguished from it, except by the dark shadows which they cast,
were three great mountain rams, splendid with their stout curling horns,
looking curiously at the horses feeding below them.
"Wake up, son, quick!" said he, "there's your chance; you'll never get
a better shot at sheep than that."
Awakened from his sound sleep, Jack hardly understood what was said, but
the word, sheep, caught his ear, and he flew up suddenly to a sitting
posture, like a Jack springing out of its box.
"Not too quick," said Hugh; "easy now; don't lose your head. Where's
your gun and cartridges? You want to kill one of them rams, and not
leave me to try to do it, just as they're jumping over the ridge. Take
the middle one, he's the biggest, and shoot a little high on him; it's
over a hundred yards, maybe a hundred and twenty-five; aim just above
the point of his breast, and hold steady; if you make a line shot you're
sure to get him."
The biggest ram was standing with his head toward them, and his hips a
little higher than his shoulders. The other two stood quartering, one up
and one down the valley, and any one of the three offered a fair shot
for an ordinary rifleman. Jack drew his gun out from beneath his
blankets, loaded it, and drawing up his knees, and resting his elbow on
one of them, drew a careful bead at the point named by Hugh, and fired.
At the report, the ram shot at gave a long bound down the hill, and then
stood for an instant. The other two had each sprung into the air, and
now all three turned and began to climb the hill, the two smaller ones
at a gallop, the other walking.
"Shall I shoot again, Hugh?" said Jack, much excited.
Hugh still sat with his blankets around his legs, and a smile on his
face, as he answered, "I don't believe I'd waste another cartridge;
he'll do us for quite a ways yet."
As he spoke the last ram turned off to one side, and disappeared behind
a little ridge on the shoulder of the bluff.
"Ah," said Jack, with a long sigh of contentment, "I thought I heard the
bullet strike, but I wasn't dead sure."
"Well, I guess he's stopped over there somewhere: we surely would have
seen him if he'd run off anywhere. What's that?" As Hugh spoke, Jack
heard a clatter of stones, which to his ears sounded as if the whole
face of the bluff were sliding down, and a moment later a cloud of dust,
rising over the shoulder of the little ridge behind which the sheep had
disappeared, showed that some commotion was taking place over there. A
moment more and the great sheep appeared, slowly rolling over and over
down the hill, his legs sticking up in the air at one moment, then his
back and great horns showing, as he rolled on toward the valley.
"Ha!" said Hugh, "he's saving us quite a lot of packing. Now, the first
thing we'll do is to go over there and butcher him, and bring the meat
into camp; and then we'll eat breakfast."
They crossed the stream, which was only two or three inches deep, on a
wide riffle, and were soon standing over the game. It was a magnificent
animal; far handsomer, Jack thought, than any game he had as yet
killed--a picture of strength, grace and beauty.
"Well," said Jack, "I did hope that maybe sometime during the year I'd
get a chance to shoot a sheep, but I never expected to have it come so
soon."
"And I expect you never thought a sheep would walk right into camp to be
killed, either."
"No, I surely didn't think that."
"Now, I expect," said Hugh, "that you'd like to save this skin, and the
head, too; it's a good head, and you may kill a whole lot of sheep
before you'll ever see a better, and yet I don't like the idea of
packing this head all over the country; I wonder if we couldn't cache it
somewhere, and then try to come back here and get it when we're going
south this fall."
"That would be good, but how would you ever find it again? Of course you
couldn't be sure of coming right back to this place. You might have to
travel up or down the Yellowstone a long way, hunting for the head."
"Don't you fret yourself about that, son; I know where this creek is
just as well as you know where the corrals are, down at the ranch. Many
a time I've camped here, and if we hang this head up in a tree somewhere
near here, I can find it the darkest night that ever was; but what I'm
thinking about is, that maybe we won't come back this way, and I don't
want to travel a hundred miles just to get a sheep's head. Anyhow, I'll
cut the skin of the neck low down, and we can make up our minds later
what we'll do with the skull."
It did not take very long to butcher and cut up the sheep, but several
trips had to be made before the meat and hide and head had been carried
to the camp.
"Now," said Hugh, "I want you to make the fire and cook breakfast, and
I'm going to dry some of this meat."
While Jack was at work getting breakfast, Hugh stretched two of the
sling ropes double, between a tree and some tall bushes that grew near
it, and then went to work at the carcass of the sheep, cutting the flesh
from it in wide flakes, of which before long he had a considerable pile.
These he hung over the sling ropes, much as a laundress would hang
handkerchiefs on a clothes line, and before Jack had announced that
breakfast was ready, one of the lines was covered with red meat, which
was already beginning to turn brown, in the rays of the hot sun.
"Whew!" said Hugh, as he came up to the fire to eat his breakfast, "this
is going to be a scorching hot day. I believe we'll stop here for a
while, and give that meat a chance to dry, and the horses a chance to
rest up, and feed good; they're beginning to get poor, and I don't
wonder, for they haven't had much chance to eat for the last six days.
Is that all the breakfast you've got?" he continued, looking at the
frying-pan full of meat which Jack had cooked; "why, that ain't a
marker; I could eat all that myself. You'll have to put on some more
before long, if you've got anything like the appetite I've got."
Breakfast was a deliberate meal, and greatly enjoyed. Jack thought that
the flesh of the mountain sheep was the best meat that he had ever
eaten, and said so.
"It's good," said Hugh. "It's sure good; but don't make up your mind
it's the best meat in the world till we get among the buffalo; then
you'll be eating what the Pawnees call, real meat, and if you don't say
that fat cow is the best meat in the world, I don't want a cent. Did you
notice anything when we came down into the valley last night?"
"Yes, I saw where some cattle had been."
"Ah, that's what I meant; but them cattle ain't the white-horned spotted
cattle that you're used to see; they're the cattle that belong here on
these prairies."
"What, are those buffalo tracks?"
"That's what. They're old, but there's been buffalo here this spring,
and I miss my guess if we don't see some of 'em before many days have
passed."
"Well," said Jack, "I'm going over to take a look those tracks, so I'll
know 'em again when I see 'em."
"Well," said Hugh, "you won't have to go across the creek, because
there's plenty of 'em right down below here. The first thing I want you
to do," and he put his hand in his pocket and drew out his pipe, "is to
help me to slice up the rest of this meat, and put it up where it'll
dry. With the sun as hot as it is to-day, it won't take long for it to
get hard, and maybe toward night we can pack up and travel a few miles
further on."
They now returned to the sheep's carcass, and before long almost the
whole of it was hanging in the sun to dry. One of the hams and a sirloin
were saved, to be eaten as fresh meat; the rest, when dry, would be
packed in a sack and carried with them.
By the time they had completed their task it was mid-day, and the sun
was blazing down with all its force into the little valley where the
camp was.
"Whew!" said Hugh, "it's hot here, ain't it? Now let's go down to the
creek and wash up, and then we'll fry some sheep meat, and set in the
shade for an hour or two; and then, if you like, we'll take this sheep's
head down below here, and maybe get it when we come back in the fall."
"All right," said Jack, "I'd like to put it up somewhere where it will
be safe, because I want to take it home with me and have it mounted, and
give it to mother. You see, I didn't take anything back with me last
year, except those hides, and I'd like real well to be able to point to
this head hanging in the house, and tell the fellows how I killed it."
"Well," said Hugh, "there's a safe place to put it, not more'n a mile
away, and the only thing is not to forget to come this way when we're
going south in the fall."
After a hearty meal, and an hour or two of rest in the shade, Hugh said,
"Now, son, round up your horses and we'll start. Suppose you ride the
black to-day, and leave Pawnee and the others here; I'll ride the
bucking dun."
Jack walked out toward where the horses were standing, and, drawing his
whistle from his pocket, blew a shrill blast. At once all the horses
raised their heads and looked toward him, and in a moment Pawnee
started, trotting across the flat, and all the other horses followed.
Pawnee trotted straight up to Jack and reached out his nose toward him,
and Jack, taking from his pocket a piece of bread, held it toward the
horse, which nosed it for a moment and then took it between his lips and
began to eat it. While he was doing this, Jack passed his right arm,
which held the rope, around the horse's neck, knotted it through in a
bowline, and then stepping quietly around among the other horses, passed
the other end of the rope over the neck of the black, and tied that.
Hugh, meanwhile, had walked around the horses and up to the bucking dun,
on the other side, and attached his rope to its neck. Pawnee was then
freed, and the two horses to be ridden were led over to where the
saddles were.
Hugh was soon saddled up, but before he finished he noticed that Jack
was having trouble. He had dropped the rope on the ground, and holding
the bridle open, tried to pass it over the head of the black horse, but
whenever he did this the horse threw his head up in the air so high that
Jack could not reach it. Hugh watched the performance for a little
while, and at last saw Jack throw his right arm around the horse's neck,
near the head, and again try to put the bridle on, but again the horse
raised its head. Jack held on, and was swung quite off his feet, and
when the horse lowered its head again and Jack's feet touched the ground
he seemed angry, and struck at the horse's nose with his right hand, but
did not hit it, and then, very angrily, tried to kick the horse in the
belly. The horse stepped a little to one side and Jack had kicked so
hard that he sat down very suddenly in a bunch of sage brush.
"Hold on, son," said Hugh, "that ain't no way to manage that horse;
you'll never do nothing with a horse by getting angry at him and
hammering him; keep cool, and you can conquer most any horse; get mad,
and swear and kick and throw clubs, and you will spoil the best horse
that ever lived."
"Well, confound it," said Jack, "I can't bridle him and it would make a
saint mad to have to do with such a fool of a horse."
"Well, I guess that's so, but even if the saint did get mad, he wouldn't
get his horse bridled. I want you to have sense, and not make a fool of
yourself, even if the horse is one. Throw the bridle down on the ground,
now, and put the saddle on him."
Jack felt a good deal ashamed of what he had done, and he knew that what
Hugh had said was true, that nothing could be gained by getting angry.
He got his saddle, folded the blanket, and saddled the horse. "Now,"
directed Hugh, "throw the end of your rope across the saddle, so that it
hangs down on the off side." Jack did so, and then Hugh called him
around to that side of the horse.
"Now," said he, "tie your rope around his fetlock," and when this had
been done, he added, "now, take up his foot and bend his knee, and take
a couple of turns of your rope around the saddle horn, so's to hold his
foot up; now, slip round on the other side and put the bridle on him,
quietly; don't be in a hurry."
Jack took up the bridle and opened it, and was about to try to pass it
over the horse's head, when Hugh said, "Push against his shoulder hard."
Jack did so, and the horse lost its balance a little and awkwardly
lifted his front foot and put it down again, so that it could stand
steadily.
"Now," said Hugh, "put your bridle on quietly." The horse paid no
attention to the bridle, opened his teeth when Jack pressed his jaw, and
in a moment the bridle was on and the throat-latch buckled.
"Now, turn his foot loose," said Hugh, "and we'll go on up to that
clump of trees." Hugh took the sheep's head in one hand, mounted and
started on, and Jack followed. As they rode up the valley, side by side,
Hugh said, "That horse you're riding isn't a bad horse, and he isn't
rightly a fool horse, either, but your uncle lent him last fall to a
cow-puncher that was working for the Bar X outfit, and had lost his
horse and stopped with us for a few days. That fellow didn't have the
sense that God gave him; he was always hammering his horse in some way
or other. If the horse didn't lead good, he'd take a club and pound it
over the head. He came pretty near spoiling two or three horses he rode
while he was here. Finally, one day Jo found him in the corral,
hammering one of them young horses that was rode last summer, with a
club, and he took the club away from the fellow and began to hammer him.
The fellow tried to draw his gun, but Jo was too quick for him, and
clinched him, and got the gun and threw it out of the corral. Then they
fought all over the place, until Rube and Mr. Sturgis heard 'em, and
came out and stopped it. When your uncle heard what had happened, he
told that cow-puncher to take his blankets and walk, and the last they
see of him he was walking.
"When you tied up this horse's foot, and gave him a shove, so that he
see he wasn't very steady on his legs, you gave him something to think
about, and he forgot all about that he didn't want to be bridled, and
was just thinking of keeping his right side up."
"Well, Hugh, it's a mighty good thing to know that about taking up a
horse's leg. I was awful mad when I couldn't bridle that horse, and
felt as if I'd like to kill him; then when I kicked at him and missed
him, and sat down, I felt what a fool I'd been, and I was madder than
ever."
"Well, it don't pay for a fellow to lose his head. A man wants to keep
his wits about him all the time, and when you get mad and try to fight a
horse, whether it's a bad horse or just a scared horse, you're kind o'
losing the advantage that a man has over an animal, and putting yourself
down on his level."
"That's so, isn't it?" said Jack, "I never thought of it just that way
before."
"Yes, that is so; the only thing that a man has got that's much use to
him is his sense; a buffalo is bigger and stronger; a deer is swifter; a
wolf can crawl around better out of sight, and all them animals are
better armed than a man is. It's his sense that gives a man the pull on
all of 'em, and makes him able to creep up on 'em and kill 'em, if he
wants to; makes him able to tame horses, and makes him smart enough to
get up guns and gunpowder, and railways and all them things. So,
whatever you do, son, you want to try to hang on to your sense, and
never lose it even for a minute. A man that's got a level head, that
isn't away up in the air one minute, and away down to the ground
another, is the man that's going to come out ahead."
As Hugh finished speaking, they rounded a point of the bluffs and saw
before them a group of half-a-dozen box-elder trees, with a few clumps
of willows growing beneath them. "There," said Hugh, "if we put that
skull up in that thickest box-elder tree it's pretty sure to stay there
until we come back. Nothing will bother it except the magpies, and all
they'll do will be to clean off the meat there is on it."
They stopped under the tree, and dismounted. Hugh pointed upward, and
Jack, obeying his gesture, quickly scrambled up to the lowest of the
branches. Hugh threw him the end of his rope, which Jack caught, and
carrying it, climbed up in the thick foliage.
"Now," said Hugh, "you haul up the skull, and hang it by the horns,
close to the trunk, across two branches. See that it is so firm that it
can't blow down; or, if you can't make it firm, tie it with these
buckskin strings that I'll put around the horn." Hugh took two long
thongs of buckskin from his pocket, wound them around the horns, and
then lifting the skull as high as he could, Jack slowly hauled it up to
where he was.
"Here's a bully place," he said, "a branch to hold each horn, and a
strong, dry stub coming out, that will support the chin."
"All right," said Hugh, "maybe you'd better tie it, anyhow, with them
strings; then we'll be doubly sure that it will stay there."
After a few moments' work, Jack threw down the end of the lariat, and
called to Hugh, "It's firm and steady as a rock, now, and I don't
believe anything can move it."
"All right," said Hugh; "come on, we'll go back to camp and maybe move
on a little further to-night."
A little later they were again in camp.
Two or three hours before sunset they packed up and set out again,
travelling until nearly dark, when they came to a water course which
was dry, except for an occasional hole where there was a little mud and
stagnant water. Hugh paused and looked about, saying, "We've struck this
creek a little too far down; there's a spring just a little above
here--right good water." Turning, he rode up the stream and before long
called back, "There's the place just ahead; we'll camp there to-night."
For the next two or three days they continued their journey. Jack now
had plenty of chance to see buffalo tracks, for it was evident that not
long before there had been plenty of buffalo on the prairie here.
CHAPTER X.
BUFFALO.
"Hugh," said Jack, as they sat at breakfast one morning, "oughtn't we to
see some buffalo pretty soon? We've been seeing a lot of sign, and it
seems to me that it's growing fresher all the time."
"That's so, son," answered Hugh; "it is growing fresher, and I believe
that we're liable to see buffalo most any day now. Maybe we'll see some
to-day. You took notice that the sign has been growing fresher all the
time, but I don't know if you saw that these buffalo are moving just
about the same way we are. Of course they ain't travelling; they're just
kind o' feeding along, but if you watch the tracks we pass to-day,
you'll see that the most of 'em are pointing just about the way we're
going. Now, we've been travelling right smart and fast, not stopping for
anything, ever since we first struck the sign. When we first saw it, it
was right old. Now it's fresh. That means that we are following up the
buffalo, and catching up to 'em, and I wouldn't be surprised if we were
to see some before we camp to-night." Hugh stopped speaking, filled his
pipe, and leaning over toward the fire, picked up a brand and lighted
it. "Well," he went on, "if you'll saddle up now, I'll fix up these
dishes, and make up the packs, and we'll move along."
Jack went out and brought in the horses, and tied them up to some
bushes. Then he put the saddles on the pack horses, and drew the cinches
up on them well, but did not tie them. Next he saddled Hugh's horse, and
then his own, in each case leaving the latigos untied. By the time he
had returned to the fire, Hugh had made up his packs, and when Jack saw
that they were ready, he brought up the pack horses, one by one, and
after re-cinching each animal, the loads were speedily in position. The
two riders mounted, and they moved off in a single file, Hugh leading,
the pack horses following and Jack as usual bringing up in the rear on
Pawnee.
All through the morning they travelled on over the gray prairie.
Antelope were plenty and tame, and often ventured within shot of the
train, but they had meat in one of the packs, and neither Hugh nor Jack
felt like molesting the pretty animals. There were many flowers to be
seen on the prairie; bunches of brilliant red or yellow cactus and white
poppy bells swinging in the wind. Now and then, in some low places,
where it was too damp for the sage to grow, they saw patches of blue and
pink lupine, and occasionally a bunch of white flowers, which Hugh had
told Jack was the loco; a plant which poisons animals that eat it.
About noon Hugh halted near a little hill, and said to Jack, "Let's
leave the pack horses here to feed, and ride up on top of that bluff. I
think maybe we'll see something." They did so, and when they reached its
crest, Hugh, after looking over the landscape for a few moments,
pointed away to the north, and said, "Buffalo." Jack looked hard, but
could see nothing that looked like a buffalo, but far off on the distant
hillside he saw some tiny black specks, which he knew must be the
longed-for animals.
"Now, Hugh," he said, "how do you know that those are buffalo, and not
cattle or horses?"
"Well," said Hugh, "to tell you the truth, I don't believe I can tell
you how I know, but I know it all the same. In the first place, in this
range of country where we are now, there ain't any cattle or any horses,
without they're Indian horses. Now, of course it might be such a thing
that there'd be a little bunch of Indian horses scattered out on the
hill-side like that, and all of 'em dark coloured animals, but I don't
believe it. I wouldn't look to see horses in such a place as that;
they're too far from any stream, and they don't look right for horses.
At the same time, they're too far off for me to tell by their shape or
the way they act that they ain't horses. But you keep on, and before the
day's over, we'll see more buffalo, and close to us, too; and maybe
before this trip's over, you'll get to know buffalo when you see 'em as
far off as that, even if you can't tell how it is you know what they
are."
Two or three miles beyond this they stopped at a little stream, where
there were a few trees, and unpacked their animals and turned them out
to graze, while they built a fire and cooked a meal. After they had
eaten, and prepared the packs again, Hugh said, "Now, we'll let these
horses eat for an hour longer before packing up, and then we'll start,
and if we have to, we can make quite a long drive before night." They
made themselves comfortable under the shade of the tree, and presently
Hugh said to Jack, "Son, do you mind the lecture I gave you about
hunting, when you first came out into this country, more than a year
ago? That was the day you killed your first antelope, I think."
"Yes, of course I remember, Hugh," replied Jack. "I didn't understand
everything that you told me then, but I've remembered it all a good many
times since, and what you said to me has helped me a whole lot."
"Well," said Hugh, "I expect I did talk a heap that day, but I wanted to
kind o' try and start you on the right road. I mind, though, that while
I was talking, I kept thinking I was kind o' like one of them professors
that we see out in this country sometimes; them fellows that come out to
dig bones, and catch bugs, and all sorts of little lizards, snakes and
other varmints. I heard one of them talking once, and he just kept right
on for two or three hours, telling us about how the earth was made, and
how this used to be water where it is all dry now, and a whole parcel of
things that I didn't understand, and I don't believe anybody else did,
except the man that was talking."
"Well, Hugh," said Jack, "there isn't anybody that knows it all, and
these professors know about bones and bugs, and you know about hunting
and trailing, and fighting Indians. I suppose there ain't any man but
what could teach 'most any other man something."
"That's so, son; you're dead right, but the trouble with most of us is,
we set a heap of store by what we know, and we don't think very much of
what other people know. I expect the smartest men of all is them that's
always anxious to learn, and always a-learning. But what I set out to
say was something about buffalo, and killing buffalo. Now, of course,
you're a boy; a pretty sensible boy, I'll allow, but, after all, you're
a boy, and you're liable to get excited. Now, you know, we're travelling
now; we ain't here for pleasure; we're trying to go somewhere; so if we
come on buffalo, right close, sudden, I don't want you to go crazy, and
start off to chase 'em. You're here now, a-helping to take care of this
pack train, and you mustn't lose your packs. You'll have plenty of
chances to kill buffalo; likely you'll have a chance to-day; but when
you start in to kill your first buffalo, see that you go at it right.
Now, a buffalo is awful easy killed. Where they're plenty, you can creep
right up close to 'em, and kill 'em by still hunting, but of course it's
lots more fun to run 'em. You've got a good horse, and he'll take you
right up to any cow that runs on the prairie. When you get a chance to
chase buffalo, remember that you mustn't shoot until you get right up
close to 'em. Ride right up close by the cow's side, and then shoot, and
your horse will turn off a little, so as to get out of the way in case
the cow should charge. You needn't mind your horse at all; he'll take
care of himself, and won't step into any badger hole, or fall with you;
but you've got to look out for your riding, for if a cow turns quick,
and your horse has to whirl quick, you may slide off, if you haven't got
the horse well between your legs. Another thing is, that a buffalo
stands awful high, and you're likely to shoot too high, and put a lot
of bullets into an animal where they won't hurt it a particle. You must
remember that in a buffalo, as in every other animal that I know
anything about, the life lies low. If you're on a horse, you'll be
shooting down, of course, but try to shoot so that the ball will cut the
buffalo only a few inches above the brisket. I've seen lots of young
fellows waste ammunition on buffalo; fellows that could shoot pretty
well, too; only they didn't know where to shoot; they all shot too high.
The boss ribs on a buffalo stick so far up into the air that there's
pretty nigh as much of the animal above its backbone as there is below,
and that's awful deceiving, and tends to make a man shoot high. Now, I
expect likely you'll remember all this that I've told you, and won't
have any trouble at all. You take hold of things about hunting quicker
than any boy I ever saw."
"I'm much obliged to you for telling me this, Hugh, and I'll try hard to
remember it. I expect I'll get excited when I have my first chance to
shoot at a buffalo. They're so big, you see; bigger than anything I ever
had a chance to shoot at."
"Yes," said Hugh, "maybe you'll feel that way the first time or two;
but, Lord! you'll get used to it after a little while, and you'll only
want to kill buffalo when you're hungry. Mind what I tell you, though,
about your riding. I'd hate almightily to see you go flying off your
horse, when you're after a bunch of buffalo, the way you did that time
last summer when you were chasing the wolf."
"That's so," said Jack, "I flew a long way that time, but I hope I'm a
good deal better rider now than I was then."
"Yes," said Hugh, "I expect you are. You ought to be, anyhow. But I
want you to be as careful as you know how. There's been a whole lot of
men killed by chasing buffalo; hooked by them, or had their horses fall
with them, or been thrown a long way, and had their guns driven through
their bodies. I've seen a lot of accidents in my time. Well," he went
on, as he lighted his pipe again, "let's saddle up and move."
As they rode on, through the afternoon, they saw more and more buffalo.
Several bunches that they passed were not more than a half mile from
them, but, though Jack was very anxious to have a shot, he said nothing,
feeling pretty sure that his chance would come before very long. Toward
evening they came to a little stream, flowing through a narrow valley
where there was wood, and a nice grassy flat. Here Hugh halted, and said
to Jack, "I did calculate that we'd go on five or six miles further, to
the main creek, but I guess maybe we'll stop here and make camp, and
then, before we eat, we'll ride out a little way and see if we can't
kill some meat. That last antelope is pretty near gone, and it might be
such a thing that we could kill a buffalo."
"All right," said Jack, "that will suit me first class."
They took the packs off the horses, picketed them out, and then,
tightening their saddles, rode up out of the creek valley, and toward
some rough, broken buttes that rose from the prairie two or three miles
to the west. Half an hour's riding brought them to a broken country,
and, dismounting at the foot of a hill rather taller than the others,
they climbed on foot to its summit. Here Jack saw a curious sight. To
the west, many buffalo could be seen; some of them quite near; others,
far off. All of them were moving; not running, but walking along in
single file, one after another, like so many cows moving through a
pasture.
"Why, what are they doing, Hugh?" asked Jack; "and where in the world
are they going? They seem to be all travelling, but in different
directions. I supposed that when buffalo wanted to go anywhere they all
ran off in a great crowd, but these are walking along slowly, but
walking as if they were determined to go somewhere."
"That's just what they're doing, son; they're going to water, and each
one of them bunches that you see is heading right straight for the
nearest water. Some of them look like they was going right down to our
camp, and here comes a bunch that are going to pass right close to us.
Do you see that trail that passes right at the foot of this hill? Well,
that's a buffalo trail, and if I ain't mightily mistaken, them nearest
buffalo is going to follow that trail, and come right close by where we
left the horses. We'll go down and get 'em and bring 'em up a little
further, behind that shoulder, and sit by 'em until the buffalo come,
and then you'll have a chance to kill one, and we'll have some fat cow
to eat to-night."
"That will be great," said Jack; "of course I'd rather chase them, but
then, as you said to-day, we ain't out here for fun, and I don't suppose
it would be good sense to run Pawnee down, chasing buffalo. He's been
travelling all day, and it wouldn't do him any good to give him a race
now."
"That's good sense, son. Take care of your horse, and take care of your
gun, always, in this country. When we get to the Piegan camp there'll be
a whole lot of chances to run buffalo, and to run 'em with a fresh
horse. It would be just foolishness to do it now. Come on." Hugh led the
way down the hill to the horses, and bringing the animals a little
higher up the hill and so out of sight, they crept over to a shoulder,
from which they could plainly see the buffalo trail passing only forty
yards distant. They had not sat there long when Hugh touched Jack, and
motioned with his head, and, as he looked, Jack saw one buffalo after
another come in sight around the point of the bluff until twelve were
visible. "It's a little bunch of cows," said Hugh, in a low voice, "and
five of 'em have got calves. There's two heifers, and one of those you
want to kill. Take the last one, or else the one that's third from the
end; they're the two heifers, and they'll be fat, and first-class meat.
Take notice of these cows; you'll see their horns are slim and turned
in. A bull's horns are a great deal stouter, and don't turn in near so
much. Now, pick your animal, and get ready, and when she's opposite to
us, shoot. Try not to kill one of the old cows; she won't be half as
good meat as the heifer."
Jack lay there and watched, and his heart was beating fast, as the
buffalo approached. They seemed to walk slowly and heavily, kicking up a
good deal of dust, their beards almost sweeping the ground. The little
calves, to Jack's great surprise, were reddish in colour, and seemed to
have no hump at all. In fact, they looked like little red farm calves.
They were strong and active, and seemed to be very playful, sometimes
running short races, away from the trail, and again coming back and
falling into the line behind their mothers. Though to the eye the
buffalo seemed ponderous and slow, it took them but a little time to get
up opposite where Jack sat. When they had done so he settled himself and
began to aim, and Hugh said, "Remember now, low down, and a leetle bit
ahead of where you want to hit; they're moving, you know." Jack fired,
and all the buffalo stopped and looked about them. "Did I hit her?" said
Jack. "I think I must have."
"Yes," said Hugh, "you hit her, and you hit her right. She'll be down in
a minute, and then I think the others will go on."
In a moment or two the heifer at which Jack had fired walked slowly out
of the trail, and lay down, and the other buffalo, after looking about,
started on, and in a few moments had disappeared behind another rise of
ground.
"Well," said Hugh, "let's go and get the horses, I expect likely she'll
be dead by the time we get to her." Jack was trembling a little when he
rose and followed Hugh, but by the time he was in the saddle he had
cooled down again. They rode toward the heifer, which had fallen over on
her side and was moving still--not quite dead. Jack was about to ride up
to her, when Hugh said, "Hold on! Wait a little; give her a chance to
die." They dismounted at a little distance from the animal, and walked
around to her head, but still fifteen or twenty yards distant.
"Now, I have often told you," said Hugh, "not to go up to an animal
without a load in your gun, and I'll tell you now, never to go up to a
buffalo unless you're sure it's dead. I was hunting once with a partner,
trying to get some meat to take into the railroad, and we shot three or
four buffalo from a stand, and then went down and drove the others off,
and started in to butcher. There was one cow that was moving a little,
and my partner went up to her to cut her throat, and when he had nearly
got to her, she jumped up and ran against him, and threw up her head,
and then fell down dead, and when I got to him I found that one horn had
split him open from the waist to the throat, and he died while I stood
looking at him. That's always made me feel scared of a wounded buffalo.
That cow keeps on moving. Just fire a shot into her head, just in front
of the horns, and above the eyes." Jack did so, and the cow stretched
out her legs and lay still. "Lots of people will tell you," said Hugh,
"that you can't kill a buffalo by shooting it in the forehead. They say
that the skull's so thick, and the hide and the hair makes such a mat
that a ball won't go into it. Don't you ever believe them. If you shoot
a buffalo in the forehead, and aim your gun right, so's to hit its
brain, you kill it every time."
They took as much of the meat of the heifer as their horses could carry,
and returned to camp.
CHAPTER XI.
IN THE QUICKSANDS.
"There," said Hugh, one afternoon as they rode over a low ridge, and
down toward a stream flowing through a wide valley, "that's the
Mussellshell!"
"Well," said Jack, "it don't look to me like much of a river."
"Well, no," said Hugh, "it ain't; there's a heap of valley and mighty
little river. There ain't but one other river, that I know of, that's
long like this one, that carries as little water."
"What one is that, Hugh?" said Jack.
"That's Milk River," was the reply. "We cross that, or at least, the
heads of it after we get into the Piegan country. That stream don't rise
in the mountains, but comes up out of a lot of springs and swamps on the
prairie; so all the water it gets is what little melting snow drains
into it in spring; and besides that, it flows through a gumbo country,
and lots of the water soaks into the soil, so that by the middle of
summer down near its mouth it is often plumb dry, or what water there is
in it just stands in water holes; it don't run at all. Then, in spring,
when the snow is melting and the rains are on, it often gets over its
banks and floods the whole country."
"There don't seem to be much wood here, Hugh; where are you going to
camp?"
"Well," said Hugh, "we'll have to camp by some patch of sage-brush, and
use that and buffalo chips to cook with. There's plenty of wood up
nearer to the mountains, but none down here."
Camp was made early in the afternoon, but after they had taken off the
packs, and Jack had unsaddled, he noticed that Hugh's horse still had
his saddle on, and was feeding about the camp, dragging his rope and
bridle.
"Why don't you unsaddle, Hugh?" he asked.
"Well," said Hugh, "I'm going to ride along the river apiece, and try to
pick a good place to cross; this here creek is mighty bad in
spots--quicksands in the river and soap-holes along the bank, that you
can't see until you get right to 'em. It may take me half an hour to
look out a crossing to-night, and that may save us a horse, and anyhow,
a whole lot of trouble in the morning."
After they had eaten and washed up the dishes, Hugh mounted and rode off
up the stream. The horses were feeding close to the camp, and Jack took
his rifle, and walking up to a little rise of ground, sat there,
overlooking the camp and the wide valley. He had not been there very
long when something moving down the stream caught his eye, and as he
watched it, and it came nearer, he could see that it was a bird flying,
and when still closer, he saw that the bird was big, and that there
seemed to be something long streaming out behind it. Just below the camp
it came down nearly to the water's surface, and suddenly threw out a
long neck, checked its flight, and let its long slender legs drop,
alighting on a sand-bar. Jack saw then that it was a great heron or
crane, but larger than any that he had ever seen. He thought he would
shoot it, and get Hugh to tell him just what it was; so after the bird
had stopped looking about, and had lowered its head and was walking
along the bar, Jack quickly crept out of sight, and running down between
two ridges which hid him, got near enough to the bank to take a shot at
the bird. It was not easy to estimate how far off it was; it looked like
less than a hundred yards, but over the flat bottom and the water there
was nothing to measure the distance by except the bird's size. However,
he took a careful shot at it with level sights, and was delighted to see
it spread its wings and fall forward on the sand. He walked to the edge
of the stream, wondering how he could get the bird. The distance across
to the sand-bar was not great, but the water was muddy and whirling, and
it was impossible to see bottom, or to guess whether if he stepped in he
would go over his shoes or his head. He looked about for a stick with
which he might feel for the bottom, but of course there were no sticks
there. He put the butt of his gun into the water, but could not feel the
bottom. Then he sat down, took off his shoes and stockings, and rolled
up his trousers, and let himself down over the bank, feeling in the
water for bottom, but he could not touch it. The water felt thick, and
he could feel the little particles of soil striking against his legs.
Getting up on the bank again he took his shoes in one hand and his rifle
in the other, and walked up the stream a little way, and there he again
tried for bottom, but found none. He looked at the bird, so near to him,
and did not feel like giving it up. It was hardly thirty feet away. He
felt sure that he could throw a rope across to it.
This gave him an idea. Putting on his shoes, and thrusting his socks
into his pocket, he walked up to the camp and took a sling-rope off a
pack saddle, and then, with the axe and a picket-pin in his hand walked
down to the stream. He now had in his mind two ways of getting the bird;
one was to tie the picket-pin to the end of the rope, and try to throw
it over the bird, and drag it into the water, and so, across. If he
could not do that, he made up his mind that he would drive the
picket-pin into the bank, tie the rope to it, strip off all his clothes,
and, holding the rope, try to wade across the channel.
It was not hard to throw the picket-pin and rope over to where the bird
lay, but it proved very hard to throw it so that the line could lie
across the bird. Once he did so, and began to pull in very gradually,
but before the bird had been moved at all toward the water's edge the
pin slipped up over it and came away.
Meantime, Hugh had ridden quite a long way up the stream, looking for a
crossing, but finding none. Two or three places seemed inviting, but his
horse was afraid of them, and on investigating, Hugh found that bad
quicksands lay close to the bank. At length, however, he reached a point
where a deep buffalo trail came down to the water's edge, and where
buffalo had crossed later. There were some stones in the bottom here,
and Hugh, riding in, and crossing the stream so as to come out where the
buffalo trail appeared on the other side, found that he had a good
crossing. Then he turned about and rode back to camp.
After Jack had thrown the picket-pin until he was thoroughly
discouraged, he decided to try to cross, himself. He drove the
picket-pin firmly in the bank, and tied the sling-rope to it, undressed,
took the coil of rope in his hand, and then let himself down from the
bank into the water, very slowly. Before the water was up to his
shoulders his feet struck the bottom of coarse gravel, and he turned his
face toward the other bank, and holding the rope tightly, with the coil
in his left hand, he began to go slowly out into the stream. The water
flowed with great violence, and two or three times nearly took him off
his feet. Soon, however, it shoaled a little, and he turned up the
stream to reach the point of the sand-bar behind which there was an
eddy. In a moment the water was only up to his knees, and he was just
about to spring forward to the bar when suddenly the bottom seemed to
give out beneath his feet, and the water was up to his waist, while,
piled around his legs, up to his knees, was a mass of heavy sand. He
tried to lift his feet out of it, but the sand clung like great weights
about his legs and he could not move them. In a moment it flashed across
his mind that these must be the quicksands about which he had heard so
often, but of which he had known nothing. Stories told by Hugh and
others, of men and animals caught in this terrible, unyielding sand
flashed across his mind as he struggled to free his feet. One pull
seemed to loosen his right foot, and he lifted it a little way, but this
left him with his knee bent, and made that leg useless. The sand seemed
to be piling up higher around his legs, and now it was half way up to
his thighs. He was frightened.
All this had taken a very few moments and luckily he still held the
sling-rope. He drew this tight, and throwing himself forward, so that
his body was almost horizontal, he pulled on the rope with all his
might, and at the same time tried to kick with his legs. In vain; he
could move neither of them, but his thighs, which before had been erect,
bent forward, and now he could not get them back again; to keep his body
erect he was obliged to lean backward. Every minute he could feel that
the sand was higher on his legs, and he could also feel that the water
was creeping up his body. It seemed but a few moments since his knees
were out of the water, and now the water rippled against his chest. What
was going to happen? It could not be that he should drown here; and yet
Hugh had told him of men who had been drowned in just this way. He must
try again to get out. He must do something; he could not stand this.
Suddenly, he remembered something that Hugh was always saying; something
that he had said to him only two or three days before; the sense of it
was, that a man should always keep his wits about him; and as these oft
repeated words came into his mind he seemed suddenly to cool off, and to
lose the excitement that he had been feeling. His mind worked fast, and
he said to himself, "Now, what would Hugh do if he were stuck here?" He
tried to think; then suddenly he bent down, and with his face close to
the water began to scrap away the sands from the sides of his thighs. He
had been doing that only for a moment when he noticed something; the
sand scraped away on the down-stream side of his body seemed to come
back at once; that scraped from the up-stream side did not come back,
but left a hole. In a moment he comprehended what this meant; that on
the up-stream side of his legs the water was helping carry away the
disturbed sand, while on the down-stream side it was packing in that
sand all the time. In a moment he was working with both hands on the
up-stream leg, and it took a very short time to clear this almost down
to the knee, but below that he could not get. Suddenly, he threw himself
down stream as hard as he could, wrenched his body to one side, and with
a mighty pull dragged his left leg from its fetter, falling down in the
water so that its muddy flood covered him. He righted himself at once,
and kept kicking with his left leg, for fear that it should again become
fast, and soon he had trodden a hard place, where for a little while he
could rest his foot, but the whirling sands soon covered it, and he was
obliged to keep it moving. Now the water had carried away the sand from
the upper part of his right thigh, but he could not free it, nor even
move it. Again despair seized him, and he did not know what to do. He
looked at the clear blue sky, at the brown prairie, and back at the
horses, quietly feeding near the camp, just as if no one anywhere about
was suffering and fearing, perhaps dying. Oh, if Pawnee were only here,
and he could take hold of his tail.
Once more he tried to free his foot, struggling, jerking, pulling and
wrenching the leg, until it was strained and sore, but the unyielding
sand held it as in a vise, and at length he stood still, almost
exhausted. All the time he felt that the water was creeping up a little
higher on his body. Now for a little while Jack entirely lost his self
control. "What does it mean?" he asked himself in despair. "What is
going to happen? Can it be that I am not going to get out? Have I got to
drown here in sight of camp? Shan't I ever get back home, and see father
and mother again, or uncle Will or Hugh? Was mother thinking about this
when she cried and kissed me at the train, and asked me to be careful? I
haven't been careful, but it seems kind o' hard that she should have to
suffer because I am a fool. How badly father'll feel, too, and Uncle
Will and Hugh. They'll all think that they were to blame. Oh! I must get
out, I can't die here;" and the poor boy again struggled until he was
exhausted. The water was now nearly up to his arm-pits, and he was
almost worn out.
All at once, as he looked at the camp, he saw Hugh ride in among the
horses, stop and look about, as if trying to see where his companion
was. Jack's heart gave a great bound, and he called loudly, but Hugh did
not hear him, and began to swing himself out of the saddle. In despair,
Jack yelled again, sending out a shrill, high-pitched scream which
reached the rider and made him throw his leg back over the saddle and
turn in the direction of the river. Again Jack screamed, and Hugh
galloped rapidly toward the bank, and in a moment saw the boy's white
skin shining above the muddy water.
"Help, Hugh! help! I'm stuck," called Jack.
"All right, son," came Hugh's deep voice, "hold on a minute, we'll have
you out." He galloped up to the very edge of the bank, sprang from the
saddle, and quickly freed his rope from the horse's neck, at the same
time throwing down the bridle rein. Then stepping a little to one side;
he coiled the rope, made a careful cast, and the loop fell over Jack's
head. Jack caught it, drew up the loop under his arm-pits, and Hugh
quickly took in the slack; then he walked to his horse, drew the rope
tight, and took a double turn of it about the saddle horn.
"Now, son," said Hugh, "we've got to pull you out, and if you're badly
stuck, it's liable to stretch you considerable."
"No matter, Hugh; only get me out as quick as you can," said Jack. "I've
got one leg free, there's only one to be pulled loose."
"Well," said Hugh, "we'll go as easy as we can, but it's liable to hurt
you considerable. What's this rope running into the water from this
pin?"
"That's around my body, too," said Jack.
"Is it tied?" said Hugh.
"No," said Jack, "it's just wrapped around."
"Well, make it fast around your body, and then let me have what slack
you can. I'll pull on that rope, and have the horse pull on the other,
and maybe that'll make it easier for you."
Jack tied the end of the rope about his body, and Hugh took in the
slack; then he loosened the lariat, turned his horse so that his head
was away from the stream, again fastened the lariat to the saddle horn,
and put the sling-rope over his own shoulder; then he called to Jack,
"See if you can dig away the sand at all from around the leg that's
fast." Jack bent down until his face was under water, and worked hard,
scraping away the sand, and again succeeded in getting it down to his
knee; then he raised his head again, and called to Hugh, "I've done the
best I can, the sand is down to my knee, but it's filling up again."
"Well," said Hugh, "we'll start. You must yell if you feel anything
breaking." He bent forward, throwing his weight very slowly against the
sling rope, and starting the horse very slowly at the same time. The
ropes tightened, Jack was pulled forward until his face was under water,
he felt as if he were being cut in two below his arms, as if his legs
were being pulled out of their sockets, when suddenly, with a jerk, he
flew forward, was buried under the muddy water, and then whirled over
and over in it, and a moment later was dragged out on the bank by Hugh,
who bent over him with an anxious face. Without a word Hugh lifted him
in his arms and put him on the horse, which he led toward the camp.
Before they had reached there, Jack had recovered his breath, and said,
"Oh, Hugh, I don't think I ever was so glad to see anybody in my life as
I was to see you ride in among the horses."
"Well," said Hugh, "I'm glad I got there just when I did. You must have
had a pretty bad time while you were stuck there."
"Yes," said Jack, "I don't think I will ever be so near drowning, and
yet live."
"You're some cut by them ropes, I see," said Hugh. And Jack, looking
down, saw about his body two red, bleeding marks, where the ropes had
rubbed his skin off. "Are your legs all right?" continued the old man.
"I think so," said Jack. "One of 'em feels longer than the other, but I
can move them both."
"Well," said Hugh, "I ought to have told you not to try to cross this
creek; everybody knows it's bad for quicksands, but I ought to have
remembered that you didn't know nothing about this country, anyhow."
Hugh lifted Jack out of the saddle and laid him down on one of the
mantas, and then unrolled his bed and put him on that.
"Now," said Hugh, "I'm going to look you over and see if you're much
hurted." A quick, rough examination showed Hugh that, except for marks
around Jack's body where the ropes had pulled, and a long, deep scratch
on his leg and foot, he was quite sound. Hugh took some sheep tallow,
and melting it in the frying-pan, applied it warm to these scars; and
then, telling Jack to lie still, went down to the stream again and
brought back his rifle and clothes. Then he sat by him and talked to
him, telling stories of the Musselshell country, and the Indian fights
that had taken place there, until darkness fell, and the boy dropped
asleep.
CHAPTER XII.
RESTING UP.
When Jack awoke next morning and tried to move he was unable to do so.
For a moment he could not think what had happened; then suddenly the
events of the day before flashed back into his memory. Hugh, who had
been sitting by the fire, saw the blankets stir and walked over near to
him.
"Well, son," he said, "how do you feel this morning? Pretty stiff and
sore I reckon, ain't you?"
"Yes, indeed, Hugh, I am sore all over. I don't feel as if I could move;
but except for that I am all right."
"Well," said Hugh, "lie still awhile till I make breakfast, and then
we'll kind o' prop you up, and see whether you are off your feed or
not."
Hugh went back to the fire and Jack could hear him walking about it and
rattling the dishes. He wanted to get up and do his part, too, but he
could not bend one of his joints without its hurting. By-and-by he
managed very slowly to turn his whole body, so that he lay on his side
and could look at the fire, and watch Hugh cooking the meat and waiting
for the coffee to boil, and then taking the pot off the coals and
setting it in a warm place, and finally clearing it by dashing a cupful
of water into it. Then, when all was ready, Hugh brought the pack
saddles close to Jack's bed, piled them up firmly so as to make a back,
and then approaching Jack, put his arm under his shoulders, lifted him
partly from the ground, and drew the whole bed over until the boy's back
rested against the pack saddles, made soft by the piling against them of
a number of blankets. Hugh did this so very slowly and gently that the
bending of Jack's body at the thighs scarcely hurt him at all.
"There," said Hugh, "did it hurt you much? I reckon you'll feel better
right off, now that you can sit up and look around; and now if you'll
eat a good breakfast I think I can take and rub some of the soreness out
of you pretty quick, as soon as it gets a little warmer."
"Thank you, Hugh," said Jack, gratefully, "it didn't hurt me a bit, and
I believe if you'll help me a little bit I can get up and dress and walk
around, after breakfast. I hate to lie here doing nothing. It's like
being a prisoner."
"Well," said Hugh, "it ain't no fun, I reckon. I mind once when I was
laid up with a broken leg, I got terrible uneasy until I was able to
hobble about a little bit, and I know that being a prisoner ain't no
fun, cause I was one myself once, and I was sure uncomfortable."
"When was that, Hugh?" said Jack. "I never heard about that before."
"Well," said Hugh, "you go on and eat your breakfast--here's your coffee
and some meat and bread, and I'll tell you about it. It wan't so very
long ago; only about ten years. I was working on a ranch at the head of
one of the forks of the Loup, just after they first got cattle in the
country, and we had a terrible lot of trouble with horse thieves. Doc
Middleton and his gang was camped somewhere in the country, and some of
the best horses out on the range kept disappearing all the time. We knew
it wasn't Indians that was taking them, and we knew they wasn't running
off themselves; so we calculated it was white men, and we figured that
it was Middleton and his outfit. Still, there wasn't anything sure known
about it. Some of the boys were for catching Middleton and hanging him,
but it was easier to talk about that than it was to do it. He generally
went with three or four men, not always the same ones though, and they
were all of them always heeled, and it was liable to be a pretty hard
matter to get the drop on them. Nobody knew where they was camped, but
the boys that was riding on all the ranches in the country had orders to
be on the lookout for them, and if they saw any signs of where they
stopped, to let it be known right off.
"Finally one day one of the boys came in and reported that he'd come on
a horse trail pretty well worn, leading down into one of the cedar
canyons that runs into the Dismal, and he believed that Middleton's
outfit was camped in there; and from the way the trail looked, he
thought they had a lot of horses there. It didn't take long to gather up
a dozen men, who said they'd start down there and find out what there
was in the camp, anyhow; and other riders had been sent out to bring in
more men from the furthest camps. Really, a dozen men wasn't enough to
tackle this gang, for we could count eight or nine men that belonged to
it, and if they wanted to put up a fight against us it wasn't any sure
thing that we could best them. Anyhow, what there was of us started out
about dark and rode down within two or three miles of the cedar canyon,
leaving fellows along the road to bring up any of the other men that
might come in. When we got down to the stopping place, Wilson, the ranch
boss who was leading our party, asked me to go ahead down to the camp
and see how many men there was there, and whether they had just their
own horses, or a bunch besides.
"I started off, and when I got within a quarter of a mile of the camp,
left my horse in the hollow in the sandhills, and went ahead on foot. It
was easy to find the place. When I got close to it, I could see the
light of the fire shine on the cedars long before I got within sight of
the camp. I went along slow and easy, but when I got to the edge of the
canyon I could not see anything except the fire and two or three wagons,
and five or six men sitting around. Their horses were out of sight
somewhere. I slipped down a side ravine, and keeping pretty well at the
edge of the canyon, worked my way along until I got up above the men. I
soon saw that there'd been quite a bunch of horses pastured there, and
going along a little further found thirty or forty head feeding in the
canyon. I went pretty careful, because I didn't know but I might run
onto a horse guard any minute, for it didn't seem likely that these
horses would stay down in the canyon there unless they was herded.
They'd be more likely to get up onto the prairie where the grass was
better.
"After I had seen the horses I went on back till I got nearly opposite
where the fire was, and then I crept up on a little ridge of sand and
looked over to count the men and see what they was doing, and how they
was fixed. I lay there, I guess, fifteen or twenty minutes, trying to
take the whole thing in, and then suddenly I heard a little rustle in
the grass near me, and as I drew back out of sight, a couple of men
landed on my back and yelled plenty for help. One of them was smart
enough to grab my gun and throw it away, and we just scuffled around in
the sand there for half a minute or two, and then the whole bunch that
had been at the fire jumped on me, and I give up.
"They hauled me over to the fire, and stood around looking at me and
calling me names, and presently Doc Middleton says, says he: 'Why, I
know that old fool; he works over to Wilson's ranch. What were you
doing,' says he, mighty mad, 'spying around this here camp? For two
cents I'd blow you full of holes;' and he pulled out a six-shooter and
stuck it in my face. I was some uneasy, because I knew they was a bad
lot, and they was liable to kill me right there, and hide me in the
sandhills, and then skin out of the country; but the fact is they'd been
there so long without being bothered that I expect Doc thought he owned
the country. And at last after a whole heap of talk they tied me up to a
wagon wheel close to the fire, and Doc told two of the men to sit by me
and watch me all night, and to kill me if I moved.
"I sat there most of the night. The two fellows that was guarding me
spelled each other; one would sleep for an hour, and then the other
would wake him and give him the watch, and then he'd sleep; and pretty
soon they both went to sleep.
"Whenever I got a chance I worked some at the ropes, mainly those on my
hands, and at last I got 'em free, and then I loosened the rope around
my body; but I still sat there for I wanted both them fellows to get
good and sound asleep before I commenced to sneak. By this time the fire
had died down, so that it didn't give no light to amount to nothing. I'd
just cast off the ropes and worked myself around behind the wagon,
mighty slow, and was beginning to crawl off, when all of a sudden I
heard horses coming, and the first I knew, the camp was surrounded. Doc
and his gang didn't make no fight at all; they was too surprised. They
was all of 'em brought up to the fire and tied up there, same as I'd
been a little while before. Of course, as soon as the fellows came into
the camp I holloard, because I didn't want 'em to be shooting at me. By
the time the camp was captured it began to get light. Doc sat there by
the fire and talked, and told Wilson what an outrage it was that a band
of robbers should attack a lot of peaceable cowpunchers the way they had
them. He swore he'd have the law on 'em just as soon as he could get to
the Platte; but Wilson told him that he was liable never to get nearer
to the Platte than the branches of one of them cedar trees up on the
bluff.
"I told Wilson the way they'd mistreated me, and told him about the
horses up the canyon. They was fetched down; they had all sorts of
brands on 'em, but not one that belonged in the country. It was always
my belief that them fellows stole our horses and sent them down into
Colorado, trading 'em off, maybe, for horses that they had stolen down
there. Anyhow, there wasn't a particle of evidence in the camp that we
could find that justified hanging one of them men.
"Wilson gave Doc and his men a good talking to, and told them they'd
have to leave the country. He gave 'em three weeks to get out, and then
told them that if they was found there after that, they'd be killed.
Well, they left within the time set, and that part of the country hasn't
never been troubled with 'em since, though I have heard of Doc in a good
many places since, and always with a pretty tough name."
Jack had long ago finished his breakfast, and the sun was now high in
the heavens and beginning to beat down with fervor on the barren, yellow
plain. After Hugh had washed the dishes, he said to Jack:--
"Now, I'll tell you what I want to do, son; I want to give you a good
rubbing all over, to take the soreness out of you. After I have done
that you'd better lie down and go to sleep again, and then toward
evening maybe you can put on your clothes and walk around a bit, and
to-morrow, if you feel all right, we'll start on again. I've found a
good crossing up above here, and just as soon as you are able to travel
we'll roll out." Accordingly, Hugh gave Jack a hard rubbing from head to
foot, anointing the chafed and scratched parts of his body with sheep
tallow, to which he added the crushed leaves and stems of a certain
plant which he solemnly told Jack was his medicine, rolled Jack up in a
blanket and left him to sleep. When the boy awoke again he felt fresh,
and could move his arms and legs without much pain. Hugh helped him
dress, and they walked a little distance up and down the river from
camp; and after supper that night Jack said he certainly felt well
enough to go on in the morning.
CHAPTER XIII.
TO FORT BENTON AND BEYOND.
Jack was at first pretty stiff and sore when he arose next day, but as
he moved about the camp, engaged in the work of helping to get breakfast
and preparing to pack up, his stiffness wore off. He told Hugh that he
felt able to ride, and Hugh replied that it would be better for him to
be travelling than to lie in camp.
Accordingly, soon after sunrise the little train moved off up the river,
crossed without incident at the ford that Hugh had found two days
before, and started across the valley. Following up a little tributary
that flowed in from the north, they journeyed onward, seeing all through
the morning numbers of antelope which astonished even Hugh. They were
chiefly bucks, in considerable bands, and entirely fearless, as if they
had not been disturbed for a long time. Sometimes a band would start
from below them on the hillside, gallop out into the creek bottom, and
then turning parallel with the pack train would slowly gallop along not
more than forty or fifty yards distant, occasionally stopping and
staring, and then starting on again. Hugh declared that at this season
of the year he had never seen antelope in such large bunches and said
that he did not understand it.
Their camp that night was on a little spring at the head of the small
creek that they had been following up, and high hills, almost mountains,
rose to the north of them. It seemed to be a country abounding in game,
for at night when Jack rode out to round up the horses--since it was
thought best now for a little while to picket most of them--he started
from the underbrush about the camp no less than seven deer, and none of
them seemed especially frightened but trotted off and stood looking at
him as he gathered up his animals. After darkness had fallen and they
were sitting about the fire, Hugh smoking a last pipe before going to
bed, Jack said:--
"What does it mean, Hugh, our seeing so much game here? We haven't seen
antelope or deer either as plenty since we have been out as to-day."
"Well," said Hugh, "I don't know as I can tell you, but it appears to me
that the Indians haven't been in this country for quite a while, and
it's a sure thing no white men have. The only people that travel around
here are skin hunters, and when they're in the country we don't find the
game tame like it is here. There's lots of buffalo been here too, as you
can see, but I ain't seen any right fresh signs for two or three days.
Likely we'll run on some though any time. We don't want to kill nothing,
though, while we've got any of this meat left."
"No," said Jack, "there'd be no sense in shooting these animals down
just to let 'em lie there. It's lots more fun to watch 'em when they're
right tame this way than it is to kill 'em."
"That's so," said Hugh; "but most people don't think that way. I wish
more of 'em did. Most men when they see anything that's alive they want
to kill it, and they want to keep killing as long as there's anything
around that moves."
The next day the two passed over a low divide between high hills, and
soon came upon water running to the north. Hugh told Jack that this was
a branch of the Judith River, that runs into the Missouri from the
south. "I don't know," he said, "whether you'd call this the main creek
or not; it's lots longer than the other fork that rises in the Judith
Mountains, but it don't carry near so much water. The big creek is what
we call Big Spring Creek; it flows a heap of water, and mighty nice
water too, and the stream is full of trout." As they were passing down
the stream Jack suddenly saw Hugh draw in his horse and look long and
intently down the valley; then he went on again, and as Jack passed over
the ridge he saw half a mile ahead what looked like the poles of two
lodges, as Hugh had described them, but they were not lodges for they
were not covered. When they had reached these poles they saw that they
were two large tripods about twenty feet in height, and from the legs of
these tripods were hanging hundreds of moccasins. Some were plain and
some beautifully ornamented with beads or with porcupine quills; but the
curious thing about them was that they were all made for little feet; in
other words they were children's moccasins. Hugh and Jack both
dismounted and walked around the tripods, looking at them carefully.
Most of the moccasins were about three inches long, and none seemed more
than five inches.
"What are these put here for, Hugh?" said Jack.
"Blest if I know," said Hugh. "It's some offering; likely a present to
the sun; but why they're all children's moccasins beats me. I expect
they're put up here by the Crows, likely; but it might be the Gros
Ventres. You see, we're in a kind of a No-man's-land, here. All the
Indians pass through on their way to the fort to trade, and yet none of
'em has any rights here."
For several days after this they travelled over the prairie but were
constantly in sight of mountains which rose like great islands from the
rolling plain. Now they saw buffalo again, and once on crossing a wooded
stream valley they started a little band of cow elk with their calves,
which trotted swiftly away toward the mountains without being shot at.
One night Hugh said to Jack:--
"I expect, son, to-morrow we'll camp with some people that'll surprise
you; you'll think they're curious when you look at 'em."
"Why who are those, Hugh? I didn't know you expected to get into any
Indian camp now."
"Well no," said Hugh, "I ain't said much about it, but if I ain't
mightily out in my calculations we'll strike a big camp to-morrow. More
than that, you'll think the people that you meet pretty civilized. They
don't live in lodges, and they wear shoes, and some of 'em have got just
as good guns as you or me."
"Why, who can they be, Hugh; the Red River half-breeds that I have heard
you talk about? I'd like to see their camp."
"No" said Hugh; "to-morrow I expect we'll strike Fort Benton. Have you
ever heard of that place?"
"Why yes," said Jack, "of course I have, but I didn't know we were going
to pass through it. Oh, that's what you meant by their not living in
lodges, is it? How much of a place is Fort Benton?"
"Well," said Hugh, "I don't rightly know how many people live there, but
I expect it must be nigh onto a thousand. You take it when the furs and
the robes are coming in in the fall and Benton's a mighty lively place.
It's the furthest point up the river, you know, where the steam-boats
can come, and all the robes are brought in there and taken down by the
steam-boats now. In old times they used to go down in flat boats,
batteaux we used to call 'em. The river must be full now, and likely
we'll see two or three steam-boats tied up there, from down below,
loading with furs. You see, they bring up grub and trade goods, and then
load up with robes and go on down again."
"I don't want to stop there long; just over night, maybe; but likely
we'll find some Piegans in there, and if we do, they can tell us where
the camp is. I'd like to have you see the old 'dobe Fort that's there,
the first trading post built on the river up here."
"My!" said Jack, "I'd like to see that. Then besides that, Hugh, there
must be lots of old mountain men at Benton, ain't there? I should think
they'd have interesting stories to tell of the old times."
"Well," said Hugh, "I expect there is quite a few in there, but I've
noticed that a good many of these old timers don't seem to have much to
tell that's very interesting; the main things that they remember are
about some time when they came with a big load of furs and sold them at
a big price, and then had a terrible fine drunk with the money. I don't
guess most of the stories they'd tell would interest you very much.
Still, might be such a thing as we'd run across somebody that could give
you a talk that was interesting and true, but I don't look for it."
The next afternoon, shortly before sundown, Hugh and Jack rode into the
streets of Ft. Benton, and halting before a great log store and
warehouse, Hugh dismounted and went in. In a few moments he came out
again and riding a short distance down the wide street, turned in to a
large building which bore over the door a sign "Stable". Here they
unpacked, piled their possessions in a corner, turned out their animals
into a corral, and gave them feed and hay, and then Jack and Hugh
started out to explore the town.
"I reckon we'll sleep in the stable to-night, and make an early start in
the morning. The folks in the store where I stopped told me that there's
quite a lot of Piegans in town, and if we can see them we'll find out
which way to go to-morrow. Now let's go down to the river and see the
old fort."
It did not seem to Jack as if very much of the fort was left, though the
tumbled-down walls and one of the old bastions, washed and guttered by
the rains of many years, still stood upright in part. To any one
interested in the old West or the fur trade, the ground on which Jack
stood was historic, and he made up his mind that as soon as he got back
east he would find out from the books all that he could about Fort
Benton. Hugh could not tell him very much; he thought it was built
about 1848 or '49, or maybe earlier, and he knew that it was the place
where the Indians used to trade in the old days.
Sauntering along the high bank of the river, toward the edge of the
settlement, Hugh's eye at length detected three or four buffalo-skin
lodges standing among the sage-brush near the water. They walked over to
them and soon saw that they were in an Indian camp, and after a moment's
hesitation, Hugh addressed a naked man who was lying in the shade,
speaking to him in his own tongue. A sentence or two seemed to galvanize
the man, who sprang to his feet and shook Hugh's hand heartily, talking
volubly in his own tongue. After a brief conversation Hugh turned to
Jack and said:--
"They say the main camp is over on the St. Mary's River, quite a long
way from here, and I expect we'll have to go over there to join them.
Old Four Bears, here, says he is going back in three or four days, and
wants us to wait for him, but I reckon we'll start on to-morrow morning,
and get there as quick as we can. An Indian's three or four days is
likely to spin out pretty long."
That night, for the first time in weeks, Jack and Hugh ate their supper
sitting in chairs at a table in the Fort Benton hotel. They slept that
night in the stable, and the next morning replenished their stock of
flour, coffee and other provisions, and immediately started northwest in
search of the Piegan camp. For several days they travelled northward
over the rolling prairie, without adventure. Buffalo were often in
sight, antelope were abundant, and sometimes on crossing important
streams like the Teton, Birch Creek and Badger Creek, they started deer
from the willows along the stream. Several times they came upon small
camps of Indians, and Hugh usually stopped to inquire of these small
parties where the main camp was. All the people whom he spoke with
agreed that it was on the St. Mary's River, and all said that they were
about to start north to join it.
Soon after they had left Fort Benton, the great mountains to the
westward had begun to be seen, and as they travelled northward they
seemed to draw nearer and nearer, until now always on their left this
great wall rose up, high, jagged and snow-covered far down towards its
base.
One day they made a long march, and toward night camped on the shores of
a little prairie lake, on the surface of which many water birds were
swimming. After they had made camp, Jack went down to the lake to get a
bucket of water. As he stooped to fill his bucket he noticed off to the
left a deep bay in which a number of large birds were swimming. The
entrance to this bay was narrow, and the birds were near its head, so
that it seemed to him that by going to its mouth he could cut them off
and keep them from getting out into the main lake. He left his pail
standing on the shore, and running to the mouth of the bay found the
water there very shoal. The birds which were at the upper end of the bay
seemed frightened but made no attempt to fly, though flapping clumsily
along on the water away from him. He could now see that they were geese,
and as he thought, young ones. He waded into the water which, at the
middle of the mouth, was not more than up to his knees, and began to
walk toward the geese, and presently these walked up out of the water
onto the prairie and hid themselves in the long grass. Going slowly
toward them, Jack followed them out of the water and presently saw one
crouched on the ground, its head thrust in among the grass. He caught it
and, lifting it up, found that it was a goose, nearly, or quite full
grown, but as yet unable to fly, for the quill feathers of its wings
were soft and bent easily. These he thought would be pretty good eating,
and looking about a little he found two more in the grass, and killing
the three, went back to his water bucket, filled that and took it up to
camp.
"Well," said Hugh, "I was beginning to wonder what had got you. Where
did you get them birds?"
"Why," said Jack, "I got 'em in the grass down there by the lake, and I
thought they'd be pretty good eating, so I brought 'em along."
"That's good," said Hugh; "they'll do right well for breakfast. I expect
you're getting a little tired of that dried meat, and I don't know but
I'm ready for a little fresh meat myself. Better put 'em down there by
the saddles, and as soon as we've eaten supper we'll go out to leeward
of the camp and pick 'em." While they were doing this, Hugh said to
Jack:--
"It ain't but a short day's march now to where the camp ought to be, if
it ain't moved; and if it's moved it'll be easy to follow the trail.
We're bound to catch up to 'em now in the course of two or three days,
anyhow."
"That'll be good, Hugh," said Jack; "I want to get into the camp; that's
what we've been thinking about now for a good many days, and I'm glad
it's so near to us."
CHAPTER XIV.
THE PIEGAN CAMP.
"There's the camp," said Hugh, half turning in his saddle, as he drew up
his horse on top of the hill. Jack turned Pawnee out of the trail, and
trotted by the pack horses, and when he reached Hugh's side, he looked
down on the first Indian camp he had ever seen. At the foot of the long
hill before them flowed a broad river, and on the wide flat beyond it
stood a great circle of lodges, stretching up and down the stream, and
reaching almost over to the farther bluffs.
"It's a big camp," said Hugh; "all the Piegans must be there."
"Why, Hugh," said Jack, "there must be an awful lot of people in all
those tents."
"Yes," said Hugh, "there's quite a lot of 'em, and I expect, from the
way the camp looks, that maybe there's more than just the Piegans. There
must be some Bloods and Blackfeet with them. Now you can see what a
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