The Dog Crusoe and His Master: A Story of Adventure in the Western Prairies

by R. M. Ballantyne

  CHAPTER VI.

  _The great prairies of the far west_--_A remarkable colony discovered,and a miserable night endured_.

  Of all the hours of the night or day the hour that succeeds the dawnis the purest, the most joyous, and the best. At least so think we,and so think hundreds and thousands of the human family. And sothought Dick Varley, as he sprang suddenly into a sitting posture nextmorning, and threw his arms with an exulting feeling of delight roundthe neck of Crusoe, who instantly sat up to greet him.

  This was an unusual piece of enthusiasm on the part of Dick; but thedog received it with marked satisfaction, rubbed his big hairy cheekagainst that of his young master, and arose from his sedentaryposition in order to afford free scope for the use of his tail.

  "Ho! Joe Blunt! Henri! Up, boys, up! The sun will have the start o'us. I'll catch the nags."

  So saying Dick bounded away into the woods, with Crusoe gambollingjoyously at his heels. Dick soon caught his own horse, and Crusoecaught Joe's. Then the former mounted and quickly brought in the othertwo.

  Returning to the camp he found everything packed and ready to strap onthe back of the pack-horse. "That's the way to do it, lad," cried Joe."Here, Henri, look alive and git yer beast ready. I do believe ye'regoin' to take another snooze!"

  Henri was indeed, at that moment, indulging in a gigantic stretch anda cavernous yawn; but he finished both hastily, and rushed at his poorhorse as if he intended to slay it on the spot. He only threw thesaddle on its back, however, and then threw himself on the saddle.

  "Now then, all ready?"

  "Ay"--"Oui, yis!"

  And away they went at full stretch again on their journey.

  Thus day after day they travelled, and night after night they laidthem down to sleep under the trees of the forest, until at length theyreached the edge of the Great Prairie.

  It was a great, a memorable day in the life of Dick Varley, that onwhich he first beheld the prairie--the vast boundless prairie. He hadheard of it, talked of it, dreamed about it, but he had never--no, hehad never realized it. 'Tis always thus. Our conceptions of thingsthat we have not seen are almost invariably wrong. Dick's eyesglittered, and his heart swelled, and his cheeks flushed, and hisbreath came thick and quick.

  "There it is," he gasped, as the great rolling plain broke suddenly onhis enraptured gaze; "that's it--oh!--"

  Dick uttered a yell that would have done credit to the fiercest chiefof the Pawnees, and being unable to utter another word, he swung hiscap in the air and sprang like an arrow from a bow over the mightyocean of grass. The sun had just risen to send a flood of golden gloryover the scene, the horses were fresh, so the elder hunters, gladdenedby the beauty of all around them, and inspired by the irresistibleenthusiasm of their young companion, gave the reins to the horses andflew after him. It was a glorious gallop, that first headlong dashover the boundless prairie of the "far west."

  The prairies have often been compared, most justly, to the ocean.There is the same wide circle of space bounded on all sides by thehorizon; there is the same swell, or undulation, or succession of longlow unbroken waves that marks the ocean when it is calm; they arecanopied by the same pure sky, and swept by the same untrammelledbreezes. There are islands, too--clumps of trees andwillow-bushes--which rise out of this grassy ocean to break andrelieve its uniformity; and these vary in size and numbers as do theisles of ocean, being numerous in some places, while in others theyare so scarce that the traveller does not meet one in a long day'sjourney. Thousands of beautiful flowers decked the greensward, andnumbers of little birds hopped about among them.

  "Now, lads," said Joe Blunt, reining up, "our troubles begin to-day."

  "Our troubles?--our joys, you mean!" exclaimed Dick Varley.

  "P'r'aps I don't mean nothin' o' the sort," retorted Joe. "Man wosnever intended to swaller his joys without a strong mixtur' o'troubles. I s'pose he couldn't stand 'em pure. Ye see we've got to theprairie now--"

  "One blind hoss might see dat!" interrupted Henri.

  "An' we may or may not diskiver buffalo. An' water's scarce, too, sowe'll need to look out for it pretty sharp, I guess, else we'll loseour horses, in which case we may as well give out at once. Besides,there's rattlesnakes about in sandy places, we'll ha' to look out forthem; an' there's badger holes, we'll need to look sharp for them lestthe horses put their feet in 'em; an' there's Injuns, who'll look outpretty sharp for _us_ if they once get wind that we're in them parts."

  "Oui, yis, mes boys; and there's rain, and tunder, and lightin',"added Henri, pointing to a dark cloud which was seen rising on thehorizon ahead of them.

  "It'll be rain," remarked Joe; "but there's no thunder in the air jistnow. We'll make for yonder clump o' bushes and lay by till it's past."

  Turning a little to the right of the course they had been following,the hunters galloped along one of the hollows between the prairiewaves before mentioned, in the direction of a clump of willows. Beforereaching it, however, they passed over a bleak and barren plain wherethere was neither flower nor bird. Here they were suddenly arrested bya most extraordinary sight--at least it was so to Dick Varley, whohad never seen the like before. This was a colony of what Joe called"prairie-dogs." On first beholding them Crusoe uttered a sort of halfgrowl, half bark of surprise, cocked his tail and ears, and instantlyprepared to charge; but he glanced up at his master first forpermission. Observing that his finger and his look commanded"silence," he dropped his tail at once and stepped to the rear. He didnot, however, cease to regard the prairie-dogs with intense curiosity.

  These remarkable little creatures have been egregiously misnamed bythe hunters of the west, for they bear not the slightest resemblanceto dogs, either in formation or habits. They are, in fact, the marmot,and in size are little larger than squirrels, which animals theyresemble in some degree. They burrow under the light soil, and throwit up in mounds like moles.

  Thousands of them were running about among their dwellings when Dickfirst beheld them; but the moment they caught sight of thehorsemen rising over the ridge they set up a tremendous hubbub ofconsternation. Each little beast instantly mounted guard on the top ofhis house, and prepared, as it were, "to receive cavalry."

  The most ludicrous thing about them was that, although the most timidand cowardly creatures in the world, they seemed the most impertinentthings that ever lived! Knowing that their holes afforded them aperfectly safe retreat, they sat close beside them; and as the huntersslowly approached, they elevated their heads, wagged their littletails, showed their teeth, and chattered at them like monkeys. Thenearer they came the more angry and furious did the prairie-dogsbecome, until Dick Varley almost fell off his horse with suppressedlaughter. They let the hunters come close up, waxing louder and louderin their wrath; but the instant a hand was raised to throw a stone orpoint a gun, a thousand little heads dived into a thousand holes, anda thousand little tails wriggled for an instant in the air--then adead silence reigned over the deserted scene.

  "Bien, them's have dive into de bo'-els of de eart'," said Henri witha broad grin.

  Presently a thousand noses appeared, and nervously disappeared, likethe wink of an eye. Then they appeared again, and a thousand pair ofeyes followed. Instantly, like Jack in the box, they were all on thetop of their hillocks again, chattering and wagging their little tailsas vigorously as ever. You could not say that you _saw_ them jump outof their holes. Suddenly, as if by magic, they _were_ out; then Dicktossed up his arms, and suddenly, as if by magic, they were gone!

  Their number was incredible, and their cities were full of riotousactivity. What their occupations were the hunters could not ascertain,but it was perfectly evident that they visited a great deal andgossiped tremendously, for they ran about from house to house, and satchatting in groups; but it was also observed that they never went farfrom their own houses. Each seemed to have a circle of acquaintance inthe immediate neighbourhood of his own residence, to which in case ofsudden danger he always fled.

  But another thin
g about these prairie-dogs (perhaps, considering theirsize, we should call them prairie-doggies), another thing about them,we say, was that each doggie lived with an owl, or, more correctly, anowl lived with each doggie! This is such an extraordinary _fact_ thatwe could scarce hope that men would believe us, were our statement notsupported by dozens of trustworthy travellers who have visited andwritten about these regions. The whole plain was covered with theseowls. Each hole seemed to be the residence of an owl and a doggie,and these incongruous couples lived together apparently in perfectharmony.

  We have not been able to ascertain from travellers _why_ the owls havegone to live with these doggies, so we beg humbly to offer our ownprivate opinion to the reader. We assume, then, that owls find itabsolutely needful to have holes. Probably prairie-owls cannot digholes for themselves. Having discovered, however, a race of littlecreatures that could, they very likely determined to take forciblepossession of the holes made by them. Finding, no doubt, that whenthey did so the doggies were too timid to object, and discovering,moreover, that they were sweet, innocent little creatures, theowls resolved to take them into partnership, and so the thing wassettled--that's how it came about, no doubt of it!

  There is a report that rattlesnakes live in these holes also; but wecannot certify our reader of the truth of this. Still it is well tobe acquainted with a report that is current among the men of thebackwoods. If it be true, we are of opinion that the doggie's familyis the most miscellaneous and remarkable on the face of--or, as Henrisaid, in the bo'-els of the earth.

  Dick and his friends were so deeply absorbed in watching these curiouslittle creatures that they did not observe the rapid spread of theblack clouds over the sky. A few heavy drops of rain now warned themto seek shelter, so wheeling round they dashed off at full speed forthe clump of willows, which they gained just as the rain began todescend in torrents.

  "Now, lads, do it slick. Off packs and saddles," cried Joe Blunt,jumping from his horse. "I'll make a hut for ye, right off."

  "A hut, Joe! what sort o' hut can ye make here?" inquired Dick.

  "Ye'll see, boy, in a minute."

  "Ach! lend me a hand here, Dick; de bockle am tight as de hoss's ownskin. Ah! dere all right."

  "Hallo! what's this?" exclaimed Dick, as Crusoe advanced withsomething in his mouth. "I declare, it's a bird o' some sort."

  "A prairie-hen," remarked Joe, as Crusoe laid the bird at Dick's feet;"capital for supper."

  "Ah! dat chien is superb! goot dog. Come here, I vill clap you."

  But Crusoe refused to be caressed. Meanwhile, Joe and Dick formed asort of beehive-looking hut by bending down the stems of a tall bushand thrusting their points into the ground. Over this they threw thelargest buffalo robe, and placed another on the ground below it, onwhich they laid their packs of goods. These they further securedagainst wet by placing several robes over them and a skin ofparchment. Then they sat down on this pile to rest, and consider whatshould be done next.

  "'Tis a bad look-out," said Joe, shaking his head.

  "I fear it is," replied Dick in a melancholy tone.

  Henri said nothing, but he sighed deeply on looking up at the sky,which was now of a uniform watery gray, while black clouds droveathwart it. The rain was pouring in torrents, and the wind began tosweep it in broad sheets over the plains, and under their slightcovering, so that in a short time they were wet to the skin. Thehorses stood meekly beside them, with their tails and heads equallypendulous; and Crusoe sat before his master, looking at him with anexpression that seemed to say, "Couldn't you put a stop to this if youwere to try?"

  "This'll never do. I'll try to git up a fire," said Dick, jumping upin desperation.

  "Ye may save yerself the trouble," remarked Joe dryly--at least asdryly as was possible in the circumstances.

  However, Dick did try, but he failed signally. Everything was soakedand saturated. There were no large trees; most of the bushes weregreen, and the dead ones were soaked. The coverings were slobbery, theskins they sat on were slobbery, the earth itself was slobbery; soDick threw his blanket (which was also slobbery) round his shoulders,and sat down beside his companions to grin and bear it. As for Joe andHenri, they were old hands and accustomed to such circumstances. Fromthe first they had resigned themselves to their fate, and wrappingtheir wet blankets round them sat down, side by side, wisely to endurethe evils that they could not cure.

  There is an old rhyme, by whom composed we know not, and it matterslittle, which runs thus,--

  "For every evil under the sun There is a remedy--or there's none. If there is--try and find it; If there isn't--never mind it!"

  There is deep wisdom here in small compass. The principle involveddeserves to be heartily recommended. Dick never heard of the lines,but he knew the principle well, so he began to "never mind it" bysitting down beside his companions and whistling vociferously. As thewind rendered this a difficult feat, he took to singing instead. Afterthat he said, "Let's eat a bite, Joe, and then go to bed."

  "Be all means," said Joe, who produced a mass of dried deer's meatfrom a wallet.

  "It's cold grub," said Dick, "and tough."

  But the hunters' teeth were sharp and strong, so they ate a heartysupper and washed it down with a drink of rain water collected from apool on the top of their hut. They now tried to sleep, for the nightwas advancing, and it was so dark that they could scarce see theirhands when held up before their faces. They sat back to back, andthus, in the form of a tripod, began to snooze. Joe's and Henri'sseasoned frames would have remained stiff as posts till morning; butDick's body was young and pliant, so he hadn't been asleep a fewseconds when he fell forward into the mud and effectually awakened theothers. Joe gave a grunt, and Henri exclaimed, "Hah!" but Dick was toosleepy and miserable to say anything. Crusoe, however, rose up to showhis sympathy, and laid his wet head on his master's knee as he resumedhis place. This catastrophe happened three times in the space of anhour, and by the third time they were all awakened up so thoroughlythat they gave up the attempt to sleep, and amused each other byrecounting their hunting experiences and telling stories. So engrosseddid they become that day broke sooner than they had expected, and justin proportion as the gray light of dawn rose higher into the easternsky did the spirits of these weary men rise within their soakingbodies.