by Mayne Reid
CHAPTER VII
DECOYING THE ANTELOPES
For the present, then, our voyageurs had escaped. They were safe uponthe river's bank; but when we consider the circumstances in which theywere placed, we shall perceive that they were far from being pleasantones. They were in the midst of a wilderness, without either horse orboat to carry them out of it. They had lost everything but their armsand their axe. The hunting-shirts of some of them, as we have seen, weredestroyed, and they would now suffer from the severe cold that even insummer, as we have said, often reigns in these latitudes. Not a vesselwas left them for cooking with, and not a morsel of meat or anything wasleft to be cooked. For their future subsistence they would have todepend upon their guns, which, with their ammunition, they hadfortunately preserved.
After reaching the shore, their first thoughts were about procuringsomething to eat. They had now been a long time without food, and allfour were hungry enough. As if by one impulse, all cast their eyesaround, and looked upward among the branches of the trees, to see if anyanimal could be discovered that might serve them for a meal. Bird orquadruped, it mattered not, so that it was large enough to give the foura breakfast. But neither one nor the other was to be seen, although thewoods around had a promising appearance. The trees were large, and asthere was much underwood, consisting of berry-bushes and plants withedible roots, our voyageurs did not doubt that there would be found gamein abundance. It was agreed, then, that Lucien and Francois shouldremain on the spot and kindle a fire, while Basil and Norman went off insearch of something to be cooked upon it.
In less than an hour the latter returned, carrying an animal upon hisshoulders, which both the boys recognised as an old acquaintance--theprong-horned antelope, so called from the single fork or prong upon itshorns. Norman called it "a goat," and stated that this was its nameamong the fur-traders, while the Canadian voyageurs give it the title of"cabree." Lucien, However, knew the animal well. He knew it was not ofthe goat kind, but a true antelope, and the only animal of that genusfound in North America. Its habitat is the prairie country, and at thepresent time it is not found farther east than the prairies extend, notfarther north either, as it is not a creature that can bear extremecold.
In early times, however--that is nearly two centuries ago--it must haveranged nearly to the Atlantic shores, as Father Hennipen in his_Travels_ speaks of "goats" being killed in the neighbourhood ofNiagara, meaning no other than the prong-horned antelopes. The true wildgoat of America is a very different animal, and is only found in theremote regions of the Rocky Mountains.
What Norman had shot, then, was an antelope; and the reason why it iscalled "cabree" by the voyageurs, and "goat" by the fur-traders, ispartly from its colour resembling that of the common goat, but more fromthe fact, that along the upper part of its neck there is a standingmane, which does in truth give it somewhat the appearance of theEuropean goat. Another point of resemblance lies in the fact, that the"prong-horns" emit the same disagreeable odour, which is a well-knowncharacteristic of the goat species. This proceeds from two smallglandular openings that lie at the angles of the jaws, and appear spotsof a blackish-brown colour.
Both Lucien and Francois had shot antelopes. They had decoyed themwithin range in their former expedition on the prairies, and had seenwolves do the same. The Indians usually hunt them in this manner, byholding up some bright-coloured flag, or other curious object, whichrarely fails to bring them within shot; but Norman informed his cousinsthat the Indians of the Hudson's Bay Company care little about theantelope, and rarely think it worth hunting. Its skin is of little valueto them, and they consider its flesh but indifferent eating. But thechief reason why they take so little notice of it is, because it isfound in the same range, with the buffalo, the moose, and the elk; and,as all these animals are more valuable to the Indian hunter, he allowsthe antelope to go unmolested, unless when he is hard pressed withhunger, and none of the others are to be had.
While skinning the antelope for breakfast, Norman amused his companionsby relating how he had killed it. He said he had got near enough toshoot it by practising a "dodge." After travelling through the woods forsome half-mile or so, he had come out into a country of "openings," andsaw that there was a large prairie beyond. He saw that the woodsextended no farther than about a mile from the banks of the river, andthat the whole country beyond was without timber, except in scatteredclumps. This is, in fact, true of the Red River country, particularlyof its western part, from which the great prairies stretch westward evento the "foot-hills" of the Rocky Mountains.
Well, then, after arriving at the openings, Norman espied a small herdof antelopes, about ten or a dozen in all. He would rather they had beensomething else, as elk or deer; for, like the Indians, he did not muchrelish the "goat's" meat. He was too hungry, however, to be nice, and sohe set about trying to get within shot of the herd. There was no cover,and he knew he could not approach near enough without using somestratagem. He therefore laid himself flat upon his back, and raised hisheels as high as he could into the air. These he kicked about in such amanner as soon to attract the attention of the antelopes, that, curiousto make out what it was, commenced running round and round in circles,of which Norman himself was the centre.
The circles gradually became smaller and smaller, until the hunter sawthat his game was within range; when slyly rolling himself round on oneshoulder, he took aim at a buck, and fired. The buck fell, and the restof the herd bounded off like the wind. Norman feeling hungry himself,and knowing that his companions were suffering from the same cause, lostno time in looking for other game, but shouldering the "goat," carriedit into camp.
By this time Lucien and Francois had a fire kindled--a roaring fire of"pine-knots"--and both were standing by it, smoking all over in theirwet leggings. They had got nearly dry when Norman returned, and theyproceeded to assist in butchering the antelope. The skin was whipped offin a trice; and the venison, cut into steaks and ribs, was soon spittedand sputtering cheerily in the blaze of the pine-knots. Everythinglooked pleasant and promising, and it only wanted the presence of Basilto make them all feel quite happy again. Basil, however, did not makehis appearance; and as they were all as hungry as wolves, they could notwait for him, but set upon the antelope-venison, and made each of them ahearty meal from it.
As yet they had no apprehensions about Basil. They supposed he had notmet with any game, and was still travelling about in search of it.Should he succeed in killing any, he would bring it in; and should henot, he would return in proper time without it. It was still early inthe day.
But several hours passed over and he did not come. It was an unusuallength of time for him to be absent, especially in strange woods ofwhich he knew nothing; moreover, he was in his shirt sleeves, and therest of his clothing had been dripping wet when he set out. Under thesecircumstances would he remain so long, unless something unpleasant hadhappened to him?
This question the three began to ask one another. They began to growuneasy about their absent companion; and as the hours passed on withouthis appearing, their uneasiness increased to serious alarm. They atlength resolved to go in search of him. They took different directions,so that there would be a better chance of finding him. Norman struck outinto the woods, while Lucien and Francois, followed by the dog Marengo,kept down the bank--thinking that if Basil had got lost, he would makefor the river to guide him, as night approached. All were to return tothe camp at nightfall whether successful or not.
After several hours spent in traversing the woods and openings, Normancame back. He had been unable to find any traces of their missingcompanion. The others had got back before him. They heard his story withsorrowing hearts, for neither had they fallen in with the track ofliving creature. Basil was lost, beyond a doubt. He would never havestayed so long, had not some accident happened to him. Perhaps he wasdead--killed by some wild animal--a panther or a bear. Perhaps he hadmet with Indians, who had carried him off, or put him to death on thespot. Such were the painful conjectures of his
companions.
It was now night. All three sat mournfully over the fire, their looksand gestures betokening the deep dejection they felt. Although in needof repose, none of them attempted to go to sleep. At intervals theydiscussed the probability of his return, and then they would remainsilent. Nothing could be done that night. They could only await themorning light, when they would renew their search, and scour the countryin every direction.
It was near midnight, and they were sitting silently around the fire,when Marengo started to his feet, and uttered three or four loud barks.The echoes of these had hardly died among the trees when a shrillwhistle was heard at some distance off in the woods.
"Hurrah!" shouted Francois, leaping to his feet at the instant; "that'sBasil's whistle, I'll be bound. I'd know it a mile off. Hurrah!"
Francois' "hurrah!" rang through the woods, and the next moment cameback a loud "Hilloa!" which all recognised as the voice of Basil.
"Hilloa!" shouted the three by the fire.
"Hilloa, my boys! all right!" replied the voice; and a few secondsafter, the tall upright form of Basil himself was seen advancing, underthe glare of the pine-knots. A shout of congratulation was again raised;and all the party, preceded by Marengo, rushed out to meet thenew-comer. They soon returned, bringing Basil up to the fire, when itwas seen that he had not returned empty-handed. In one hand he carried abag of grouse, or "prairie hens," while from the muzzle of hisshouldered rifle there hung something that was at once recognised as abrace of buffalo tongues.
"_Voila_!" cried Basil, flinging down the bag, "how are you off forsupper? And here," continued he, pointing to the tongues, "here's a pairof tit-bits that'll make you lick your lips. Come! let us lose no timein the cooking, for I'm hungry enough to eat either of them raw."
Basil's request was instantly complied with. The fire was raked up,spits were speedily procured, a tongue and one of the grouse wereroasted; and although Lucien, Francois, and Norman, had already suppedon the "goat's meat," they set to upon the new viands with freshappetites. Basil was hungrier than any, for he had been all the whilefasting. It was not because he was without meat, but because he knewthat his comrades would be uneasy about him, and he would not stop tocook it. Of meat he had enough, since he had slain the two buffaloes towhich the tongues had belonged; and these same buffaloes, he nowinformed them, had been the cause of his long absence.
Of course, all were eager to know how the buffaloes could have delayedhim; and therefore, while they were discussing their savoury supper,Basil narrated the details of his day's adventure.
