Part 31 (2/2)
”My eye!” exclaimed Joe Blunt, while a broad grin overspread his countenance, ”ye've not improved yer looks, Henri.”
This was true. The worthy hunter's hair was singed to such an extent that his entire countenance presented the appearance of a universal frizzle. Fortunately the skin, although much blackened, was quite uninjured, a fact which, when he ascertained it beyond a doubt, afforded so much satisfaction to Henri, that he capered about shouting with delight, as if some piece of good fortune had befallen him.
The accident had happened in consequence of Henri having omitted to replace the stopper of his powder-horn, and when, in his anxiety for Joe, he fired at random amongst the Indians, despite d.i.c.k's entreaties to wait, a spark communicated with the powder-horn and blew him up.
d.i.c.k and Crusoe were only a little singed, but the former was not disposed to quarrel with an accident which had sent their enemies so promptly to the right-about.
This band followed them for some nights, in the hope of being able to steal their horses while they slept; but they were not brave enough to venture a second time within range of the death-dealing rifle.
CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE.
DANGERS OF THE PRAIRIE--OUR TRAVELLERS ATTACKED BY INDIANS, AND DELIVERED IN A REMARKABLE MANNER.
There are periods in the life of almost all men when misfortunes seem to crowd upon them in rapid succession, when they escape from one danger only to encounter another, and when, to use a well-known expression, they succeed in leaping out of the frying-pan at the expense of plunging into the fire.
So was it with our three friends upon this occasion. They were scarcely rid of the Blackfeet, who found them too watchful to be caught napping, when, about daybreak one morning they encountered a roving band of Camanchee Indians, who wore such a warlike aspect that Joe deemed it prudent to avoid them if possible.
”They don't see us yit, I guess,” said Joe, as he and his companions drove the horses into a hollow between the gra.s.sy waves of the prairie, ”any if we only can escape their sharp eyes till we're in yonder clump o' willows, we're safe enough.”
”But why don't you ride up to them, Joe,” inquired d.i.c.k, ”and make peace between them and the Pale-faces, as you ha' done with other bands?”
”Because it's o' no use to risk our scalps for the chance o' makin'
peace wi' a rovin' war-party. Keep yer head down, Henri! If they git only a sight o' the top o' yer cap, they'll be down on us like a breeze o' _wind_.”
”Hah! let dem come!” said Henri.
”They'll come without askin' yer leave,” remarked Joe drily.
Notwithstanding his defiant expression, Henri had sufficient prudence to induce him to bend his head and shoulders, and in a few minutes they reached the shelter of the willows unseen by the savages. At least so thought Henri, Joe was not quite sure about it, and d.i.c.k hoped for the best.
In the course of half an hour the last of the Camanchees was seen to hover for a second on the horizon, like a speck of black against the sky, and then to disappear.
Immediately the three hunters bolted on their steeds and resumed their journey; but before that evening closed they had sad evidence of the savage nature of the band from which they had escaped. On pa.s.sing the brow of a slight eminence, d.i.c.k, who rode first, observed that Crusoe stopped and snuffed the breeze in an anxious, inquiring manner.
”What is't, pup?” said d.i.c.k, drawing up, for he knew that his faithful dog never gave a false alarm.
Crusoe replied by a short, uncertain bark, and then bounding forward, disappeared behind a little wooded knoll. In another moment a long, dismal howl floated over the plains. There was a mystery about the dog's conduct which, coupled with his melancholy cry, struck the travellers with a superst.i.tious feeling of dread, as they sat looking at each other in surprise.
”Come, let's clear it up,” cried Joe Blunt, shaking the reins of his steed, and galloping forward. A few strides brought them to the other side of the knoll where, scattered upon the torn and b.l.o.o.d.y turf, they discovered the scalped and mangled remains of about twenty or thirty human beings. Their skulls had been cleft by the tomahawk, and their b.r.e.a.s.t.s pierced by the scalping-knife; and from the position in which many of them lay, it was evident that they had been slain while asleep.
Joe's brow flushed, and his lips became tightly compressed, as he muttered between his set teeth, ”Their skins are white.”
A short examination sufficed to show that the men who had thus been barbarously murdered while they slept had been a band of trappers, or hunters; but what their errand had been, or whence they came, they could not discover.
Everything of value had been carried off, and all the scalps had been taken. Most of the bodies, although much mutilated, lay in a posture that led our hunters to believe they had been killed while asleep; but one or two were cut almost to pieces, and from the blood-bespattered and trampled sward around, it seemed as if they had struggled long and fiercely for life. Whether or not any of the savages had been slain, it was impossible to tell, for if such had been the case, their comrades, doubtless, had carried away their bodies. That they had been slaughtered by the party of Camanchees who had been seen at daybreak, was quite clear to Joe; but his burning desire to revenge the death of the white men had to be stifled, as his party was so small.
Long afterwards it was discovered that this was a band of trappers who, like those mentioned at the beginning of this volume, had set out to avenge the death of a comrade; but G.o.d, who has retained the right of vengeance in His own hand, saw fit to frustrate their purpose, by giving them into the hands of the savages whom they had set forth to slay.
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