CHAPTER X. BUFFALO.
"Hugh," said Jack, as they sat at breakfast one morning, "oughtn't we to see some buffalo pretty soon? We've been seeing a lot of sign, and it seems to me that it's growing fresher all the time."
"That's so, son," answered Hugh; "it is growing fresher, and I believe that we're liable to see buffalo most any day now. Maybe we'll see some to-day. You took notice that the sign has been growing fresher all the time, but I don't know if you saw that these buffalo are moving just about the same way we are. Of course they ain't travelling; they're just kind o' feeding along, but if you watch the tracks we pass to-day, you'll see that the most of 'em are pointing just about the way we're going. Now, we've been travelling right smart and fast, not stopping for anything, ever since we first struck the sign. When we first saw it, it was right old. Now it's fresh. That means that we are following up the buffalo, and catching up to 'em, and I wouldn't be surprised if we were to see some before we camp to-night." Hugh stopped speaking, filled his pipe, and leaning over toward the fire, picked up a brand and lighted it. "Well," he went on, "if you'll saddle up now, I'll fix up these dishes, and make up the packs, and we'll move along."
Jack went out and brought in the horses, and tied them up to some bushes. Then he put the saddles on the pack horses, and drew the cinches up on them well, but did not tie them. Next he saddled Hugh's horse, and then his own, in each case leaving the latigos untied. By the time he had returned to the fire, Hugh had made up his packs, and when Jack saw that they were ready, he brought up the pack horses, one by one, and after re-cinching each animal, the loads were speedily in position. The two riders mounted, and they moved off in a single file, Hugh leading, the pack horses following and Jack as usual bringing up in the rear on Pawnee.
All through the morning they travelled on over the gray prairie. Antelope were plenty and tame, and often ventured within shot of the train, but they had meat in one of the packs, and neither Hugh nor Jack felt like molesting the pretty animals. There were many flowers to be seen on the prairie; bunches of brilliant red or yellow cactus and white poppy bells swinging in the wind. Now and then, in some low places, where it was too damp for the sage to grow, they saw patches of blue and pink lupine, and occasionally a bunch of white flowers, which Hugh had told Jack was the loco; a plant which poisons animals that eat it.
About noon Hugh halted near a little hill, and said to Jack, "Let's leave the pack horses here to feed, and ride up on top of that bluff. I think maybe we'll see something." They did so, and when they reached its crest, Hugh, after looking over the landscape for a few moments, pointed away to the north, and said, "Buffalo." Jack looked hard, but could see nothing that looked like a buffalo, but far off on the distant hillside he saw some tiny black specks, which he knew must be the longed-for animals.
"Now, Hugh," he said, "how do you know that those are buffalo, and not cattle or horses?"
"Well," said Hugh, "to tell you the truth, I don't believe I can tell you how I know, but I know it all the same. In the first place, in this range of country where we are now, there ain't any cattle or any horses, without they're Indian horses. Now, of course it might be such a thing that there'd be a little bunch of Indian horses scattered out on the hill-side like that, and all of 'em dark coloured animals, but I don't believe it. I wouldn't look to see horses in such a place as that; they're too far from any stream, and they don't look right for horses. At the same time, they're too far off for me to tell by their shape or the way they act that they ain't horses. But you keep on, and before the day's over, we'll see more buffalo, and close to us, too; and maybe before this trip's over, you'll get to know buffalo when you see 'em as far off as that, even if you can't tell how it is you know what they are."
Two or three miles beyond this they stopped at a little stream, where there were a few trees, and unpacked their animals and turned them out to graze, while they built a fire and cooked a meal. After they had eaten, and prepared the packs again, Hugh said, "Now, we'll let these horses eat for an hour longer before packing up, and then we'll start, and if we have to, we can make quite a long drive before night." They made themselves comfortable under the shade of the tree, and presently Hugh said to Jack, "Son, do you mind the lecture I gave you about hunting, when you first came out into this country, more than a year ago? That was the day you killed your first antelope, I think."
"Yes, of course I remember, Hugh," replied Jack. "I didn't understand everything that you told me then, but I've remembered it all a good many times since, and what you said to me has helped me a whole lot."
"Well," said Hugh, "I expect I did talk a heap that day, but I wanted to kind o' try and start you on the right road. I mind, though, that while I was talking, I kept thinking I was kind o' like one of them professors that we see out in this country sometimes; them fellows that come out to dig bones, and catch bugs, and all sorts of little lizards, snakes and other varmints. I heard one of them talking once, and he just kept right on for two or three hours, telling us about how the earth was made, and how this used to be water where it is all dry now, and a whole parcel of things that I didn't understand, and I don't believe anybody else did, except the man that was talking."
"Well, Hugh," said Jack, "there isn't anybody that knows it all, and these professors know about bones and bugs, and you know about hunting and trailing, and fighting Indians. I suppose there ain't any man but what could teach 'most any other man something."
"That's so, son; you're dead right, but the trouble with most of us is, we set a heap of store by what we know, and we don't think very much of what other people know. I expect the smartest men of all is them that's always anxious to learn, and always a-learning. But what I set out to say was something about buffalo, and killing buffalo. Now, of course, you're a boy; a pretty sensible boy, I'll allow, but, after all, you're a boy, and you're liable to get excited. Now, you know, we're travelling now; we ain't here for pleasure; we're trying to go somewhere; so if we come on buffalo, right close, sudden, I don't want you to go crazy, and start off to chase 'em. You're here now, a-helping to take care of this pack train, and you mustn't lose your packs. You'll have plenty of chances to kill buffalo; likely you'll have a chance to-day; but when you start in to kill your first buffalo, see that you go at it right. Now, a buffalo is awful easy killed. Where they're plenty, you can creep right up close to 'em, and kill 'em by still hunting, but of course it's lots more fun to run 'em. You've got a good horse, and he'll take you right up to any cow that runs on the prairie. When you get a chance to chase buffalo, remember that you mustn't shoot until you get right up close to 'em. Ride right up close by the cow's side, and then shoot, and your horse will turn off a little, so as to get out of the way in case the cow should charge. You needn't mind your horse at all; he'll take care of himself, and won't step into any badger hole, or fall with you; but you've got to look out for your riding, for if a cow turns quick, and your horse has to whirl quick, you may slide off, if you haven't got the horse well between your legs. Another thing is, that a buffalo stands awful high, and you're likely to shoot too high, and put a lot of bullets into an animal where they won't hurt it a particle. You must remember that in a buffalo, as in every other animal that I know anything about, the life lies low. If you're on a horse, you'll be shooting down, of course, but try to shoot so that the ball will cut the buffalo only a few inches above the brisket. I've seen lots of young fellows waste ammunition on buffalo; fellows that could shoot pretty well, too; only they didn't know where to shoot; they all shot too high. The boss ribs on a buffalo stick so far up into the air that there's pretty nigh as much of the animal above its backbone as there is below, and that's awful deceiving, and tends to make a man shoot high. Now, I expect likely you'll remember all this that I've told you, and won't have any trouble at all. You take hold of things about hunting quicker than any boy I ever saw."
"I'm much obliged to you for telling me this, Hugh, and I'll try hard to remember it. I expect I'll get excited when I have my first chance to shoot at a buffalo. They're so big, you see; bigger than anything I ever had a chance to shoot at."
"Yes," said Hugh, "maybe you'll feel that way the first time or two; but, Lord! you'll get used to it after a little while, and you'll only want to kill buffalo when you're hungry. Mind what I tell you, though, about your riding. I'd hate almightily to see you go flying off your horse, when you're after a bunch of buffalo, the way you did that time last summer when you were chasing the wolf."
"That's so," said Jack, "I flew a long way that time, but I hope I'm a good deal better rider now than I was then."
"Yes," said Hugh, "I expect you are. You ought to be, anyhow. But I want you to be as careful as you know how. There's been a whole lot of men killed by chasing buffalo; hooked by them, or had their horses fall with them, or been thrown a long way, and had their guns driven through their bodies. I've seen a lot of accidents in my time. Well," he went on, as he lighted his pipe again, "let's saddle up and move."
As they rode on, through the afternoon, they saw more and more buffalo. Several bunches that they passed were not more than a half mile from them, but, though Jack was very anxious to have a shot, he said nothing, feeling pretty sure that his chance would come before very long. Toward evening they came to a little stream, flowing through a narrow valley where there was wood, and a nice grassy flat. Here Hugh halted, and said to Jack, "I did calculate that we'd go on five or six miles further, to the main creek, but I guess maybe we'll stop here and make camp, and then, before we eat, we'll ride out a little way and see if we can't kill some meat. That last antelope is pretty near gone, and it might be such a thing that we could kill a buffalo."
"All right," said Jack, "that will suit me first class."
They took the packs off the horses, picketed them out, and then, tightening their saddles, rode up out of the creek valley, and toward some rough, broken buttes that rose from the prairie two or three miles to the west. Half an hour's riding brought them to a broken country, and, dismounting at the foot of a hill rather taller than the others, they climbed on foot to its summit. Here Jack saw a curious sight. To the west, many buffalo could be seen; some of them quite near; others, far off. All of them were moving; not running, but walking along in single file, one after another, like so many cows moving through a pasture.
"Why, what are they doing, Hugh?" asked Jack; "and where in the world are they going? They seem to be all travelling, but in different directions. I supposed that when buffalo wanted to go anywhere they all ran off in a great crowd, but these are walking along slowly, but walking as if they were determined to go somewhere."
"That's just what they're doing, son; they're going to water, and each one of them bunches that you see is heading right straight for the nearest water. Some of them look like they was going right down to our camp, and here comes a bunch that are going to pass right close to us. Do you see that trail that passes right at the foot of this hill? Well, that's a buffalo trail, and if I ain't mightily mistaken, them nearest buffalo is going to follow that trail, and come right close by where we left the horses. We'll go down and get 'em and bring 'em up a little further, behind that shoulder, and sit by 'em until the buffalo come, and then you'll have a chance to kill one, and we'll have some fat cow to eat to-night."
"That will be great," said Jack; "of course I'd rather chase them, but then, as you said to-day, we ain't out here for fun, and I don't suppose it would be good sense to run Pawnee down, chasing buffalo. He's been travelling all day, and it wouldn't do him any good to give him a race now."
"That's good sense, son. Take care of your horse, and take care of your gun, always, in this country. When we get to the Piegan camp there'll be a whole lot of chances to run buffalo, and to run 'em with a fresh horse. It would be just foolishness to do it now. Come on." Hugh led the way down the hill to the horses, and bringing the animals a little higher up the hill and so out of sight, they crept over to a shoulder, from which they could plainly see the buffalo trail passing only forty yards distant. They had not sat there long when Hugh touched Jack, and motioned with his head, and, as he looked, Jack saw one buffalo after another come in sight around the point of the bluff until twelve were visible. "It's a little bunch of cows," said Hugh, in a low voice, "and five of 'em have got calves. There's two heifers, and one of those you want to kill. Take the last one, or else the one that's third from the end; they're the two heifers, and they'll be fat, and first-class meat. Take notice of these cows; you'll see their horns are slim and turned in. A bull's horns are a great deal stouter, and don't turn in near so much. Now, pick your animal, and get ready, and when she's opposite to us, shoot. Try not to kill one of the old cows; she won't be half as good meat as the heifer."
Jack lay there and watched, and his heart was beating fast, as the buffalo approached. They seemed to walk slowly and heavily, kicking up a good deal of dust, their beards almost sweeping the ground. The little calves, to Jack's great surprise, were reddish in colour, and seemed to have no hump at all. In fact, they looked like little red farm calves. They were strong and active, and seemed to be very playful, sometimes running short races, away from the trail, and again coming back and falling into the line behind their mothers. Though to the eye the buffalo seemed ponderous and slow, it took them but a little time to get up opposite where Jack sat. When they had done so he settled himself and began to aim, and Hugh said, "Remember now, low down, and a leetle bit ahead of where you want to hit; they're moving, you know." Jack fired, and all the buffalo stopped and looked about them. "Did I hit her?" said Jack. "I think I must have."
"Yes," said Hugh, "you hit her, and you hit her right. She'll be down in a minute, and then I think the others will go on."
In a moment or two the heifer at which Jack had fired walked slowly out of the trail, and lay down, and the other buffalo, after looking about, started on, and in a few moments had disappeared behind another rise of ground.
"Well," said Hugh, "let's go and get the horses, I expect likely she'll be dead by the time we get to her." Jack was trembling a little when he rose and followed Hugh, but by the time he was in the saddle he had cooled down again. They rode toward the heifer, which had fallen over on her side and was moving still—not quite dead. Jack was about to ride up to her, when Hugh said, "Hold on! Wait a little; give her a chance to die." They dismounted at a little distance from the animal, and walked around to her head, but still fifteen or twenty yards distant.
"Now, I have often told you," said Hugh, "not to go up to an animal without a load in your gun, and I'll tell you now, never to go up to a buffalo unless you're sure it's dead. I was hunting once with a partner, trying to get some meat to take into the railroad, and we shot three or four buffalo from a stand, and then went down and drove the others off, and started in to butcher. There was one cow that was moving a little, and my partner went up to her to cut her throat, and when he had nearly got to her, she jumped up and ran against him, and threw up her head, and then fell down dead, and when I got to him I found that one horn had split him open from the waist to the throat, and he died while I stood looking at him. That's always made me feel scared of a wounded buffalo. That cow keeps on moving. Just fire a shot into her head, just in front of the horns, and above the eyes." Jack did so, and the cow stretched out her legs and lay still. "Lots of people will tell you," said Hugh, "that you can't kill a buffalo by shooting it in the forehead. They say that the skull's so thick, and the hide and the hair makes such a mat that a ball won't go into it. Don't you ever believe them. If you shoot a buffalo in the forehead, and aim your gun right, so's to hit its brain, you kill it every time."
They took as much of the meat of the heifer as their horses could carry, and returned to camp.