by Mayne Reid
CHAPTER THIRTY THREE.
TRAILING THE BUFFALO.
After a breakfast of fresh buffalo-meat we took the road in highspirits. The long-expected sport would soon come off. Every stepshowed us "buffalo sign"--tracks, wallows, fresh ordure. None of theanimals were yet in sight, but the prairie was filled with undulations,and no doubt "a gang" would be found in some of the valleys.
A few miles farther on, and we came suddenly upon a "buffalo road,"traversing the prairie nearly at right angles to our own direction.This caused a halt and consultation. Should we follow the road? By allmeans thought every one. The tracks were fresh--the road a large one--thousands of buffaloes must have passed over it; where were they now?They might be a hundred miles off, for when these animals get upon oneof those regular roads they often journey at great speed, and it isdifficult to overtake them. When merely browsing over the prairie thecase is different. Then they travel only a few miles a day, and ahunter trailing them soon comes up with the gang.
Ike and Redwood were consulted as to what was best to be done. They hadboth closely examined the trail, bending down to the ground, andcarefully noting every symptom that would give them a clue to thecondition of the herd--its numbers--its time of passing--the rate of itsspeed, etcetera.
"Thur's a good grist o' 'em," said Ike, "leastways a kupple o' thousandin the gang--thur's bulls, cows, yearlins, an' young calf too, so we'llhave a choice o' meat--either beef or veal. Kin we do better thanfoller 'em up? Eh, Mark?"
"Wal! I don't think we can, ole boss," replied Redwood. "They passedhyur yesterday, jest about noon--that is the thick o' the drove passedthen."
"How do you tell that?" inquired several.
"Oh, that's easy made out," replied the guide, evidently regarding thequestion as a very simple one; "you see most o' these hyur tracks is aday old, an' yet thur not two."
"And why not?"
"Why how could they be two," asked the guide in astonishment, "when itrained yesterday before sun-up? Thur made since the rain, yu'll admitthat?"
We now remembered the rain, and acknowledged the truth of thisreasoning. The animals must have passed since it rained; but why notimmediately after, in the early morning? How could Redwood tell that itwas the hour of noon? How?
"Easy enough, comrades," replied he.
"Any greenhorn mout do that," added Ike. The rest, however, werepuzzled and waited the explanation.
"I tells this a way," continued the guide. "Ef the buffler had passedby hyur, immediately after the rain, thar tracks wud a sunk deeper, andthar wud a been more mud on the trail. As thar ain't no great slobberabout, ye see, I make my kalklations that the ground must a been welldried afore they kim along, and after such a wet, it could not a beenafore noon at the least--so that's how I know the buffler passed at thathour."
We were all interested in this craft of our guides, for withoutconsulting each other they had both arrived at the same conclusion bythe same process of mental logic. They had also determined severalother points about the buffalo--such as that they had not all gonetogether, but in a straggling herd; that some had passed more rapidlythan the rest; that no hunters were after them; and that it was probablethey were not bound upon any distant migration, but only in search ofwater; and the direction they had taken rendered this likely enough.Indeed most of the great buffalo roads lead to watering-places, and theyhave often been the means of conducting the thirsty traveller to thewelcome rivulet or spring, when otherwise he might have perished uponthe dry plain. Whether the buffalo are guided by some instinct towardswater, is a question not satisfactorily solved. Certain it is, thattheir water paths often lead in the most direct route to streams andponds, of the existence of which they could have known nothingpreviously. It is certain that many of the lower animals possess eitheran "instinct," or a much keener sense in these matters than man himself.Long before the thirsty traveller suspects the propinquity of water,his sagacious mule, by her joyful hinney, and suddenly altered bearing,warns him of its presence.
We now reasoned that if the buffalo had been making to somewatering-place, merely for the purpose of drinking and cooling theirflanks, they would, of course, make a delay there, and so give us achance of coming up. They had a day the start of us, it is true, but weshould do our best to overhaul them. The guides assured us we werelikely to have good sport before we came up with the great gang. Therewere straggling groups they had no doubt, some perhaps not over thirsty,that had hung in the rear. In high hopes, then, we turned our heads tothe trail, and travelled briskly forward.
We had not gone many hundred yards when a very singular scene waspresented to our eyes. We had gained the crest of a ridge, and werelooking down into a little valley through which ran the trail. At thebottom of the valley a cloud of dust was constantly rising upward, andvery slowly moving away, as the day was quite calm. Although there hadbeen rain a little over thirty hours before, the ground was alreadyparched and dry as pepper. But what caused the dust to rise? Not thewind--there was none. Some animal then, or likely more than one!
At first we could perceive no creature within the cloud, so dun andthick was it; but after a little a wolf dashed out, ran round a bit, andthen rushed in again, and then another and another, all of them withopen jaws, glaring eyes, manes erect, and tails switching about in aviolent and angry manner. Now and then we could only see part of theirbodies, or their bushy tails flung upward, but we could hear by theiryelping barks that they were engaged in a fierce contest either amongthemselves, or with some other enemy. It was not among themselves, asIke and Redwood both affirmed.
"An old bull 's the game," said they; and without waiting a moment, thetwo trappers galloped forward, followed closely by the rest of ourparty. We were soon in the bottom of the little valley. Ike alreadycracking away at the wolves--his peculiar enemies. Several others, ledaway by the excitement, also emptied their pieces at these worthlesscreatures, slaying a number of them, while the rest, nearly a dozen inall, took to their heels, and scampered off over the ridges.
The dust gradually began to float off, and through the thinner cloudthat remained we now saw what the wolves had been at. Standing in thecentre of a ring, formed by its own turnings and struggles, was the hugeform of a buffalo-bull. Its shape indicated that it was a very old one,lank, lean, and covered with long hair, raggled and torn into tufts.Its colour was that of the white dust, but red blood was streamingfreshly down its hind flanks, and from its nose and mouth. Thecartilage of the nose was torn to pieces by the fierce enemies it had solately encountered, and on observing it more closely we saw that itseyes were pulled out of their sockets, exhibiting a fearful spectacle.The tail was eaten off by repeated wrenches, and the hind-quarters weresadly mangled. Spite of all this mutilation, the old bull still kepthis feet, and his prowess had been proved, for no less than five wolveslay around, that he had "rubbed out" previous to our arrival. He was aterrible and melancholy spectacle--that old bull, and all agreed itwould be better to relieve him by a well-aimed bullet. This wasinstantly fired at him; and the animal, after rocking about a while onhis spread legs, fell gently to the earth.
Of course he had proved himself too tough to be eatable by anything butprairie-wolves, and we were about to leave him as he lay. Ike, however,had no idea of gratifying these sneaking creatures at so cheap a rate.He was determined they should not have their dinner so easily, so takingout his knife he extracted the bladder, and some of the smallerintestines from the buffalo. These he inflated in a trice, and thenrigging up a sapling over the body, he hung them upon it, so that theslightest breeze kept them in motion. This, as we had been alreadyassured, was the best mode of keeping wolves at a distance from anyobject, and the hunter, when wolves are near, often avails himself of itto protect the venison or buffalo-meat which he is obliged to leavebehind him.
The guide having rigged his "scare wolf," mounted his old mare, andagain joined us, muttering his satisfaction as he rode along.
We had not t
ravelled much farther when our attention was attracted bynoises in front, and again from a ridge we beheld a scene still moreinteresting than that we had just witnessed. As before, the actors werebuffalo and wolves, but this time there was very little dust, as thecontest was carried on upon the green turf--and we could see distinctlythe manoeuvres of the animals.
There were three buffaloes--a cow, her calf, and a large bull that wasacting as their champion and protector. A pack of wolves had gatheredaround them, in which there were some of the larger species, and thesekept up a continuous attack, the object of which was to destroy thecalf, and its mother if possible. This the bull was using all hisendeavours to prevent, and with considerable success too, as alreadyseveral of the wolves were down, and howling with pain. But whatrendered the result doubtful was that fresh wolves were constantlygalloping up to the spot, and the buffaloes would likely have to yieldin time. It was quite amusing to see the efforts made by the cunningbrutes, to separate the calf front its protector. Sometimes they wouldget it a few feet to the one side, and fling it to the ground; butbefore they could do it any great injury, the active bull, and the cowas well, would rush forward upon them, scattering the cowardly creatureslike a flock of birds. Then the calf would place itself between the oldones, and would thus remain for a while, until the wolves, havingarranged some new plan, would recommence the attack, and drive it forthagain. Once the position was strikingly in favour of the buffaloes.This position, which seemed in the hurry of the conflict to turn upaccidentally, was in fact the result of design, for the old ones everynow and then endeavoured to renew it, but were hindered by the stupidityof the calf. The latter was placed between them in such a way that theheads of the bull and cow were in opposite directions, and thus bothflanks were guarded. In this way the buffaloes might have held theirground, but the silly calf when closely menaced by the wolves foolishlystarted out, rendering it necessary for its protectors to assume a newattitude of defence.
It was altogether a singular conflict, a touching picture of parentalfondness. The end of it was easily guessed. The wolves would tire outthe old ones, and get hold of the calf of course, although they mightspend a long time about it. But the great herd was distant, and therewas no hope for the cow to get her offspring back to its protection. Itwould certainly be destroyed.
Notwithstanding our sympathy for the little family thus assailed, wewere not the less anxious to do for them just what the wolves wished todo--kill and eat them. With this intent we all put spur to our horses,and galloped right forward to the spot.
Not one of the animals--neither wolves nor buffaloes--took any notice ofus until we were within a few yards of them. The wolves then scamperedoff, but already the cracking rifles and shot-guns were heard above theshouts of the charging cavalcade, and both the cow and calf were seensinking to the earth. Not so the huge bull. With glaring eyeballs heglanced around upon his new assailants, and then, as if aware thatfarther strife was useless, he stretched forth his neck, and breakingthrough the line of horsemen, went off in full flight.
A fresh touch of the spur, with a wrench of the bridle-rein, brought ourhorses round, and set their heads after him, and then followed as fine apiece of chasing as I remember to have taken part in. The whole eightof us swept over the plain in pursuit, but as we had all emptied ourpieces on first charging up, there was not one ready to deliver a shoteven should we overtake the game. In the quick gallop no one thought ofre-loading. Our pistols, however, were still charged, and these weregrasped and held in readiness.
It was one of the most exciting chases. There before us galloped thegreat game, under full view, with neither brake nor bush to interruptthe pleasure of our wild race. The bull proved to be one of the fastestof his kind--for there is a considerable difference in this respect. Heled us nearly half-a-mile across the ridges before even the best of ourhorses could come up, and then just as we were closing in upon him,before a shot had been fired, he was seen to give a sudden loungeforward and tumble over upon the ground.
Some of us fancied he had only missed his footing and stumbled; but nomotion could be perceived as we rode forward, and on coming up he wasfound to be quite dead! A rifle-bullet had done the work--one that hadbeen fired in the first volley; and his strong fast run was only thelast spasmodic effort of his life.
One or two remained by the dead bull to get his hide and the "tit-bits"of his meat, while the rest rode back to recover the more precious cowand calf. What was our chagrin to find that the rascally wolves hadbeen before us! Of the tender calf, not a morsel remained beyond a fewtufts of hairy skin, and the cow was so badly torn and mutilated thatshe was not worth cutting up! Even the tongue, that most delicate bit,had been appropriated by the sneaking thieves, and eaten out to the veryroot.
As soon as they had observed us coming back, they had taken to theirheels, each carrying a large piece with him, and we could now see themout upon the prairie devouring the meat before our very eyes. Ike wasloud in his anathemas, and but that the creatures were too cunning forhim, would have taken his revenge upon the spot. They kept off,however, beyond range of either rifle or double-barrel, and Ike wasforced to nurse his wrath for some other occasion.
We now went back to the bull, where we encamped for the night. Thelatter, tough as he was, furnished us an excellent supper from histongue, hump-ribs, boudins, and marrow bones, and we all lay down tosleep and dream of the sports of to-morrow.
