Part 14 (1/2)
Sandy stood beside the n.o.ble beast with a strange elation, looking at it before he could make up his mind to cut its throat and let out the blood. It was a young bull buffalo that lay before him, the short, sharp horns ploughed into the ground, and the ma.s.sive form, so lately bounding over the rolling prairie, forever still. To Sandy it all seemed like a dream, it had come and gone so quickly. His heart misgave him as he looked, for Sandy had a tender heart. Then he gently touched the animal with the toe of his boot and cried, ”All by my own self!”
[Ill.u.s.tration: HE GENTLY TOUCHED THE ANIMAL WITH THE TOE OF HIS BOOT AND CRIED, ”ALL BY MY OWN SELF.”]
”Well done, Sandy!” The boy started, turned, and beheld his cousin Oscar gazing open-mouthed at the spectacle. ”And did you shoot him all by your very own self? What with? Charlie's gun?” The lad poured forth a torrent of questions, and Sandy proudly answered them all with, ”That is what I did.”
As the two boys hung with delight over the prostrate beast, Oscar told the tale of disappointment that the others had to relate. They had gone up the ravines that skirted the Fork, prowling on their hands and knees; but the watchers of the herd were too wary to let the hunters get near enough for a good shot. They had fired several times, but had brought down nothing. Sandy had heard the shots? Yes, Sandy had heard, and had hoped that somebody was having great sport. After all, he thought, as he looked at the fallen monarch of the prairie, it was rather cruel business. Oscar did not think so; he wished he had had such luck.
The rest of the party now came up, one after another, and all gave a whoop of astonishment and delight at Sandy's great success as soon as they saw his n.o.ble quarry.
The sun was now low in the west; here was a good place for camping; a little brush would do for firing, and water was close at hand. So the tired hunters, after a brief rest, while they lay on the trampled gra.s.s and recounted the doings of the day, went to work at the game.
The animal was dressed, and a few choice pieces were hung on the tree to cool for their supper. It was dark when they gathered around their cheerful fire, as the cool autumnal evening came on, and cooked and ate with infinite zest their first buffalo-meat. Boys who have never been hungry with the hunger of a long tramp over the prairies, hungry for their first taste of big game of their own shooting, cannot possibly understand how good to the Boy Settlers was their supper on the wind-swept slopes of the Kansas plains.
Wrapping themselves as best they could in the blankets and buffalo-robes brought from home, the party lay down in the nooks and corners of the ravine, first securing the buffalo-meat on the tree that made their camp.
”What, for goodness' sake, is that?” asked Charlie, querulously, as he was roused out of his sleep by a dismal cry not far away in the darkness.
”Wolves,” said Younkins, curtly, as he raised himself on one elbow to listen. ”The pesky critters have smelt blood; they would smell it if they were twenty miles off, I do believe, and they are gathering round as they scent the carca.s.s.”
By this, all of the party were awake except Sandy, who, worn out with excitement, perhaps, slept on through all the fearful din. The mean little prairie-wolves gathered, and barked, and snarled, in the distance. Nearer, the big wolves howled like great dogs, their long howl occasionally breaking into a bark; and farther and farther off, away in the extremest distance, they could hear other wolves, whose hollow-sounding cry seemed like an echo of their more fortunate brethren, nearer the game. A party of the creatures were busy at the offal from the slain buffalo, just without the range of the firelight, for the camp-fire had been kept alight. Into the struggling, snarling group Younkins discharged his rifle. There was a sharp yell of pain, a confused patter of hurrying feet, and in an instant all was still.
Sandy started up. ”Who's shot another buffalo?” he asked, as if struggling with a dream. The others laughed, and Charlie explained what had been going on, and the tired boy lay down to sleep again. But that was not a restful night for any of the campers. The wolves renewed their howling. The hunters were able to s.n.a.t.c.h only a few breaths of sleep from time to time, in moments when the dismal ululation of the wolf-chorus subsided. The sun rose, flooding the rolling prairies with a wealth of golden suns.h.i.+ne. The weary campers looked over the expanse around them, but not a remnant of the rejected remains of the buffalo was to be seen; and in all the landscape about, no sign of any living thing was in sight, save where some early-rising jack-rabbit scudded over the torn sod, hunting for his breakfast.
Fresh air, bright sunlight, and a dip in a cool stream are the best correctives for a head heavy with want of sleep; and the hunters, refreshed by these and a pot of strong and steaming coffee, were soon ready for another day's sport.
CHAPTER XVI.
A GREAT DISASTER.
The hunters had better success on their second day's search for buffalo; for they not only found the animals, but they killed three.
The first game of the day was brought down by Younkins, who was the ”guide, philosopher, and friend” of the party, and Oscar, the youngest of them all, slew the second. The honor of bringing down the third and last was Uncle Aleck's. When he had killed his game, he was anxious to get home as soon as possible, somewhat to the amus.e.m.e.nt of the others, who rallied him on his selfishness. They hinted that he would not be so ready to go home, if he yet had his buffalo to kill, as had some of the others.
”I'm worried about the crop, to tell the truth,” said Mr. Howell. ”If that herd of buffalo swept down on our claim, there's precious little corn left there now; and it seemed to me that they went in that direction.”
”If that's the case,” said the easy-going Younkins, ”what's the use of going home? If the corn is gone, you can't get it back by looking at the place where it was.”
They laughed at this cool and practical way of looking at things, and Uncle Aleck was half ashamed to admit he wanted to be rid of his present suspense, and could not be satisfied until he had settled in his mind all that he dreaded and feared.
It was a long and wearisome tramp homeward. But they had been more successful than they had hoped or expected, and the way did not seem so long as it would if they had been empty-handed. The choicest parts of their game had been carefully cooled by hanging in the dry Kansas wind, over night, and were now loaded upon the pack-animals.
There was enough and more than enough for each of the three families represented in the party; and they had enjoyed many a savory repast of buffalo-meat cooked hunter-fas.h.i.+on before an open camp-fire, while their expedition lasted. So they hailed with pleasure the crooked line of bluffs that marks the big bend of the Republican Fork near which the Whittier cabin was built. Here and there they had crossed the trail, broad and well pounded, of the great herd that had been stampeded on the first day of their hunt. But for the most part the track of the animal mult.i.tude bore off more to the south, and the hunters soon forgot their apprehensions of danger to the corn-fields left unfenced on their claim.
It was sunset when the weary pilgrims reached the bluff that overlooked the Younkins cabin where the Dixon party temporarily dwelt. The red light of the sun deluged with splendor the waving gra.s.s of the prairie below them, and jack-rabbits scurrying hither and yon were the only signs of life in the peaceful picture. Tired as he was, Oscar could not resist taking a shot at one of the flying creatures; but before he could raise his gun to his shoulder, the long-legged, long-eared rabbit was out of range. Running briskly for a little distance, it squatted in the tall gra.s.s. Piqued at this, Oscar stealthily followed on the creature's trail. ”It will make a nice change from so much buffalo-meat,” said the lad to himself, ”and if I get him into the corn-field, he can't hide so easily.”
He saw Jack's long ears waving against the sky on the next rise of ground, as he muttered this to himself, and he pressed forward, resolved on one parting shot. He mounted the roll of the prairie, and before him lay the corn-field. It was what had been a corn-field!
Where had stood, on the morning of their departure, a glorious field of gold and green, the blades waving in the breeze like banners, was now a ma.s.s of ruin. The tumultuous drove had plunged down over the ridge above the field, and had fled, in one broad swath of destruction, straight over every foot of the field, their trail leaving a brown and torn surface on the earth, wide on both sides of the plantation. Scarcely a trace of greenness was left where once the corn-field had been. Here and there, ears of grain, broken and trampled into the torn earth, hinted what had been; but for the most part hillock, stalk, corn-blade, vine, and melon were all crushed into an indistinguishable confusion, muddy and wrecked.
Oscar felt a shudder pa.s.s down his back, and his knees well-nigh gave way under him as he caught a glimpse of the ruin that had been wrought. Tears were in his eyes, and, unable to raise a shout, he turned and wildly waved his hands to the party, who had just then reached the door of the cabin. His Uncle Aleck had been watching the lad, and as he saw him turn he exclaimed, ”Oscar has found the buffalo trail over the corn-field!”