Part 31 (2/2)
”It's plain they intend to make a stay of it.”
”Ay! we're in for it, that's sartin! Wagh! I wonder how long thar a-goin' to squat hyar, any how.”
”Three days at the least: may be four or five.”
”Great gollies! we'll be froze in half the time.”
”What would they be doin' here so long? I warrant ye they'll clar out as soon as they can.”
”So they will; but how can they in less time?”
”They can get all the meat they want in a day. See! yonder's buffalo a plenty; look! away yonder!” and the speaker points to several black objects outlined against the brightening sky. It is a herd of buffaloes.
”That's true enough. In half a day I warrant they kin get all the meat they want: but how are they a-goin' to jirk it in less than three?
That's what I want to know.”
”Es verdad!” says one of the Mexicans, a cibolero; ”tres dias, al menos!” (It is true--three days, at the least!)
”Ay, hombre! an' with a smart chance o' suns.h.i.+ne at that, I guess.”
This conversation is carried on by two or three of the men in a low tone, but loud enough for the rest of us to overhear it.
It reveals a new phase of our dilemma on which we have not before reflected. Should the Indians stay to ”jerk” their meat, we will be in extreme danger from thirst, as well as of being discovered in our cache.
We know that the process of jerking buffalo beef takes three days, and that with a hot sun, as the hunter has intimated. This, with the first day required for hunting, will keep us four days in the ravine!
The prospect is appalling. We feel that death or the extreme torture of thirst is before us. We have no fear of hunger. Our horses are in the grove, and our knives in our belts. We can, live for weeks upon them; but will the cacti a.s.suage the thirst of men and horses for a period of three or four days? This is a question no one can answer. It has often relieved the hunter for a short period, enabling him to crawl on to the water; but for days!
The trial will soon commence. The day has fairly broken. The Indians spring to their feet. About one-half of them draw the pickets of their horses, and lead them to the water. They adjust their bridles, pluck up their spears, s.n.a.t.c.h their bows, shoulder their quivers, and leap on horseback.
After a short consultation they gallop off to the eastward. In half an hour's time, we can see them running the buffalo far out upon the prairie: piercing them with their arrows, and impaling them on their long lances.
Those who have remained behind lead their horses down to the spring-branch, and back again to the gra.s.s. Now they chop down young trees, and carry f.a.ggots to the fires. See! they are driving long stakes into the ground, and stretching ropes from one to the other. For what purpose? We know too well.
”Ha! look yonder!” mutters one of the hunters, as this is first noticed; ”yonder goes the jerking-line! Now we're caged in airnest, I reckin.”
”Por todos santos, es verdad!”
”Carambo! carrajo! chingaro!” growls the cibolero, who well knows the meaning of those stakes and lines.
We watch with a fearful interest the movements of the savages.
We have now no longer any doubt of their intention to remain for several days.
The stakes are soon erected, running for a hundred yards or more along the front of the encampment. The savages await the return of their hunters. Some mount and scour off toward the scene of the buffalo battue, still going on, far out upon the plain.
We peer through the leaves with great caution, for the day is bright, and the eyes of our enemies are quick, and scan every object. We speak only in whispers, though our voices could not be heard if we conversed a little louder, but fear makes us fancy that they might. We are all concealed except our eyes. These glance through small loopholes in the foliage.
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