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

by R. M. Ballantyne

  CHAPTER XXV.

  _Dangers of the prairie_--_Our travellers attacked by Indians, anddelivered in a remarkable manner_.

  There are periods in the life of almost all men A when misfortunesseem to crowd upon them in rapid succession, when they escape fromone danger only to encounter another, and when, to use a well-knownexpression, they succeed in leaping out of the frying-pan at theexpense of plunging into the fire.

  So was it with our three friends upon this occasion. They werescarcely rid of the Blackfeet, who found them too watchful to becaught napping, when, about daybreak one morning, they encountered aroving band of Camanchee Indians, who wore such a warlike aspect thatJoe deemed it prudent to avoid them if possible.

  "They don't see us yit, I guess," said Joe, as he and his companionsdrove the horses into a hollow between the grassy waves of theprairie, "an' if we only can escape their sharp eyes till we're inyonder clump o' willows, we're safe enough."

  "But why don't you ride up to them, Joe," inquired Dick, "and makepeace between them and the Pale-faces, as you ha' done with otherbands?"

  "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 gitonly a sight o' the top o' yer cap, they'll be down on us like abreeze o' wind."

  "Ha! let dem come!" said Henri.

  "They'll come without askin' yer leave," remarked Joe, dryly.

  Notwithstanding his defiant expression, Henri had sufficient prudenceto induce him to bend his head and shoulders, and in a few minutesthey reached the shelter of the willows unseen by the savages. Atleast so thought Henri, Joe was not quite sure about it, and Dickhoped for the best.

  In the course of half-an-hour the last of the Camanchees was seen tohover for a second on the horizon, like a speck of black against thesky, and then to disappear.

  Immediately the three hunters vaulted on their steeds and resumedtheir journey; but before that evening closed they had sad evidence ofthe savage nature of the band from which they had escaped. On passingthe brow of a slight eminence, Dick, who rode first, observed thatCrusoe stopped and snuffed the breeze in an anxious, inquiring manner.

  "What is't, pup?" said Dick, drawing up, for he knew that his faithfuldog 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 thedog's conduct which, coupled with his melancholy cry, struck thetravellers with a superstitious feeling of dread, as they sat lookingat each other in surprise.

  "Come, let's clear it up," cried Joe Blunt, shaking the reins of hissteed, and galloping forward. A few strides brought them to the otherside of the knoll, where, scattered upon the torn and bloody turf,they discovered the scalped and mangled remains of about twenty orthirty human beings. Their skulls had been cleft by the tomahawk andtheir breasts pierced by the scalping-knife, and from the position inwhich many of them lay it was evident that they had been slain whileasleep.

  Joe's brow flushed and his lips became tightly compressed as hemuttered between his set teeth, "Their skins are white."

  A short examination sufficed to show that the men who had thus beenbarbarously murdered while they slept had been a band of trappers orhunters, but what their errand had been, or whence they came, theycould not discover.

  Everything of value had been carried off, and all the scalps had beentaken. Most of the bodies, although much mutilated, lay in a posturethat led our hunters to believe they had been killed while asleep; butone or two were cut almost to pieces, and from the blood-bespatteredand trampled sward around, it seemed as if they had struggled long andfiercely for life. Whether or not any of the savages had been slain,it was impossible to tell, for if such had been the case, theircomrades, doubtless, had carried away their bodies.

  That they had been slaughtered by the party of Camanchees who had beenseen at daybreak was quite clear to Joe; but his burning desire torevenge the death of the white men had to be stifled, as his party wasso small.

  Long afterwards it was discovered that this was a band of trapperswho, like those mentioned at the beginning of this volume, had set outto avenge the death of a comrade; but God, who has retained the rightof vengeance in his own hand, saw fit to frustrate their purpose, bygiving them into the hands of the savages whom they had set forth toslay.

  As it was impossible to bury so many bodies, the travellers resumedtheir journey, and left them to bleach there in the wilderness; butthey rode the whole of that day almost without uttering a word.

  Meanwhile the Camanchees, who had observed the trio, and had riddenaway at first for the purpose of deceiving them into the belief thatthey had passed unobserved, doubled on their track, and took a longsweep in order to keep out of sight until they could approach underthe shelter of a belt of woodland towards which the travellers nowapproached.

  The Indians adopted this course instead of the easier method ofsimply pursuing so weak a party, because the plains at this part werebordered by a long stretch of forest into which the hunters could haveplunged, and rendered pursuit more difficult, if not almost useless.The detour thus taken was so extensive that the shades of evening werebeginning to descend before they could put their plan into execution.The forest lay about a mile to the right of our hunters, like somedark mainland, of which the prairie was the sea and the scatteredclumps of wood the islands.

  "There's no lack o' game here," said Dick Varley, pointing to a herdof buffaloes which rose at their approach and fled away towards thewood.

  "I think we'll ha' thunder soon," remarked Joe. "I never feel itonnatteral hot like this without lookin' out for a plump."

  "Ha! den ve better look hout for one goot tree to get b'low,"suggested Henri. "Voila!" he added, pointing with his finger towardsthe plain; "dere am a lot of wild hosses."

  A troop of about thirty wild horses appeared, as he spoke, on the browof a ridge, and advanced slowly towards them.

  "Hist!" exclaimed Joe, reining up; "hold on, lads. Wild horses! myrifle to a pop-gun there's wilder men on t'other side o' them."

  "What mean you, Joe?" inquired Dick, riding close up.

  "D'ye see the little lumps on the shoulder o' each horse?" said Joe."Them's Injun's _feet_; an' if we don't want to lose our scalps we'dbetter make for the forest."

  Joe proved himself to be in earnest by wheeling round and makingstraight for the thick wood as fast as his horse could run. The othersfollowed, driving the pack-horses before them.

  The effect of this sudden movement on the so-called "wild horses"was very remarkable, and to one unacquainted with the habits of theCamanchee Indians must have appeared almost supernatural. In thetwinkling of an eye every steed had a rider on its back, and beforethe hunters had taken five strides in the direction of the forest, thewhole band were in hot pursuit, yelling like furies.

  The manner in which these Indians accomplish this feat is verysingular, and implies great activity and strength of muscle on thepart of the savages.

  The Camanchees are low in stature, and usually are rather corpulent.In their movements on foot they are heavy and ungraceful, and theyare, on the whole, a slovenly and unattractive race of men. But theinstant they mount their horses they seem to be entirely changed, andsurprise the spectator with the ease and elegance of their movements.Their great and distinctive peculiarity as horsemen is the power theyhave acquired of throwing themselves suddenly on either side of theirhorse's body, and clinging on in such a way that no part of them isvisible from the other side save the foot by which they cling. In thismanner they approach their enemies at full gallop, and, without risingagain to the saddle, discharge their arrows at them over the horses'backs, or even under their necks.

  This apparently magical feat is accomplished by means of a halter ofhorse-hair, which is passed round under the neck of the horse and bothends braided into the mane, on the withers, thus forming a loop whichhangs under the neck and agains
t the breast. This being caught by thehand, makes a sling, into which the elbow falls, taking the weightof the body on the middle of the upper arm. Into this loop the riderdrops suddenly and fearlessly, leaving his heel to hang over thehorse's back to steady him, and also to restore him to his seat whendesired.

  By this stratagem the Indians had approached on the present occasionalmost within rifle range before they were discovered, and it requiredthe utmost speed of the hunters' horses to enable them to avoidbeing overtaken. One of the Indians, who was better mounted than hisfellows, gained on the fugitives so much that he came within arrowrange, but reserved his shaft until they were close on the margin ofthe wood, when, being almost alongside of Henri, he fitted an arrow tohis bow. Henri's eye was upon him, however. Letting go the line of thepack-horse which he was leading, he threw forward his rifle; but atthe same moment the savage disappeared behind his horse, and an arrowwhizzed past the hunter's ear.

  Henri fired at the horse, which dropped instantly, hurling theastonished Camanchee upon the ground, where he lay for some timeinsensible. In a few seconds pursued and pursuers entered the wood,where both had to advance with caution, in order to avoid being sweptoff by the overhanging branches of the trees.

  Meanwhile the sultry heat of which Joe had formerly spoken increasedconsiderably, and a rumbling noise, as if of distant thunder, washeard; but the flying hunters paid no attention to it, for the ledhorses gave them so much trouble, and retarded their flight so much,that the Indians were gradually and visibly gaining on them.

  "We'll ha' to let the packs go," said Joe, somewhat bitterly, as helooked over his shoulder. "Our scalps'll pay for't, if we don't."

  Henri uttered a peculiar and significant _hiss_ between his teeth, ashe said, "P'r'aps ve better stop and fight!"

  Dick said nothing, being resolved to do exactly what Joe Blunt bidhim; and Crusoe, for reasons best known to himself, also said nothing,but bounded along beside his master's horse, casting an occasionalglance upwards to catch any signal that might be given.

  They had passed over a considerable space of ground, and wereforcing their way at the imminent hazard of their necks through adensely-clothed part of the wood, when the sound above referred toincreased, attracting the attention of both parties. In a few secondsthe air was filled with a steady and continuous rumbling sound, likethe noise of a distant cataract. Pursuers and fugitives drew reininstinctively, and came to a dead stand; while the rumbling increasedto a roar, and evidently approached them rapidly, though as yetnothing to cause it could be seen, except that there was a dense, darkcloud overspreading the sky to the southward. The air was oppressivelystill and hot.

  "What can it be?" inquired Dick, looking at Joe, who was gazing withan expression of wonder, not unmixed with concern, at the southernsky.

  "Dun'no', boy. I've bin more in the woods than in the clearin' in myday, but I niver heerd the likes o' that."

  "It am like t'ondre," said Henri; "mais it nevair do stop."

  This was true. The sound was similar to continuous, uninterruptedthunder. On it came with a magnificent roar that shook the very earth,and revealed itself at last in the shape of a mighty whirlwind. In amoment the distant woods bent before it, and fell like grass beforethe scythe. It was a whirling hurricane, accompanied by a deluge ofrain such as none of the party had ever before witnessed. Steadily,fiercely, irresistibly it bore down upon them, while the crash offalling, snapping, and uprooting trees mingled with the dire artilleryof that sweeping storm like the musketry on a battle-field.

  "Follow me, lads!" shouted Joe, turning his horse and dashing at fullspeed towards a rocky eminence that offered shelter. But shelterwas not needed. The storm was clearly defined. Its limits wereas distinctly marked by its Creator as if it had been a livingintelligence sent forth to put a belt of desolation round the world;and, although the edge of devastation was not five hundred yards fromthe rock behind which the hunters were stationed, only a few drops ofice-cold rain fell upon them.

  It passed directly between the Camanchee Indians and their intendedvictims, placing between them a barrier which it would have taken daysto cut through. The storm blew for an hour, then it travelled onwardin its might, and was lost in the distance. Whence it came and whitherit went none could tell, but far as the eye could see on either handan avenue a quarter of a mile wide was cut through the forest. It hadlevelled everything with the dust; the very grass was beaten flat; thetrees were torn, shivered, snapped across, and crushed; and the earthitself in many places was ploughed up and furrowed with deep scars.The chaos was indescribable, and it is probable that centuries willnot quite obliterate the work of that single hour.

  While it lasted, Joe and his comrades remained speechless andawe-stricken. When it passed, no Indians were to be seen. So ourhunters remounted their steeds, and, with feelings of gratitude toGod for having delivered them alike from savage foes and from thedestructive power of the whirlwind, resumed their journey towards theMustang Valley.