THE CHASE.
When Natah Otann entered the lodge inhabited by the white men, under pretext of warning them to prepare for the chase, his searching eye in a few seconds had explored every corner of the building. The Indian Chief was too clever to omit noticing the Count's constraint and embarrassment: but he understood that it would be impolitic to show the suspicions he had conceived. Hence he did not in the slightest degree affect to notice the annoyance caused by his presence, and continued the conversation with that politeness the Redskins can display when they choose to take the trouble. On their side the Count and Bright-eye at once regained their coolness.
"I did not hope to find my White brother already risen," Natah Otann said with a smile.
"Why not?" the young man replied; "a desert life accustoms one to little sleep."
"Then the Palefaces will go and hunt with their red friends?"
"Certainly, if you have no objection."
"Did I not myself propose to Glass-eye to procure them a true chase?"
"That is true," the young man said, with a laugh; "but take care, Chief, I have become uncommonly fastidious since I have been in the prairie; there is hardly any game I have not hunted, as it was the love of sport alone that brought me into these unknown countries; hence, I repeat, I shall expect choice game."
Natah Otann smiled proudly.
"My brother will be satisfied," he said.
"And what is the animal we are about to follow?" the young man asked.
"The ostrich."
The Count made a sign of amazement.
"What, the ostrich?" he exclaimed, "that is impossible, Chief—"
"Because?"
"Oh, simply because there are none."
"The ostrich, it is true, is disappearing; it fled before the white men, and becomes daily rare, but it is still numerous on the prairies; in a few hours my brother will have a proof of it."
"I desire nothing better."
"Good, that is settled: I will soon come and fetch my brother."
The Chief bowed courteously and retired, after taking a parting look around. The curtain had scarcely fallen behind the Chief ere the pile of furs that covered the young girl was thrown off, and Prairie-Flower ran up to the Count.
"Listen," she said to him, seizing his hand, which she pressed tenderly, "I cannot explain to you now, for time fails me; still, remember, you have a friend who watches over you."
And before the Count could reply, or even think of replying, she fled with the bound of an antelope. He passed his hand several times over his brow, his eye being fixed on the place where the Indian girl had disappeared.
"Ah!" he at length murmured, "have I at last met with a true woman?"
"She is an angel," the hunter said, replying to his thought. "Poor child! she has suffered greatly."
"Yes; but I am here now, and will protect her!" the Count exclaimed, with exaltation.
"Let us think of ourselves first, Mr. Edward, and try to get away from here with whole skins; it will not be an easy task, I assure you."
"What do you mean, my friend?"
"It is enough that I understand it all," the hunter said, shaking his head; "let us only think now of our preparations: our friends, the Redskins, will soon arrive," he added, with that derisive smile which caused the Count to feel increased embarrassment.
But the impression caused by the Canadian's ambiguous language was promptly dissipated, for love had suddenly nestled in this young, man's heart; he only dreamed of one thing, of seeing the woman again whom he adored with all his strength.
In a man like the Count, who was gifted with a fiery organization, every feeling must necessarily be carried to an excess; and it was the case in the present instance. Love is born by a word, a sign, a look, and scarcely born, suddenly becomes a giant. The Count was fated to learn this at his own expense.
Scarcely half an hour after Natah Otann's departure, the gallop of several horses was heard, and a troop of horsemen stopped in front of the cabin. The three men went out, and found Natah Otann awaiting them at the head of sixty warriors, all dressed in their grand costume, and armed to the teeth.
"Let us go," he said.
"Whenever you please," the Count answered.
The Chief made a signal, and three magnificent horses, superbly caparisoned in the Indian fashion, were led up by children. The whites mounted, and the band set out in the direction of the prairie.
It was about six in the morning, the night storm had completely swept the sky, which was of a pale blue; the sun, fully risen in the horizon, shot forth its warm beams, which drew out the sharp and odoriferous vapours from the ground, The atmosphere was wondrously transparent, a slight breeze refreshed the air, and flocks of birds, lustrous with a thousand hues, flew around, uttering joyous cries. The troop marched gaily through the tall prairie grass, raising a cloud of dust, and undulating like a long serpent in the endless turnings of the road.
The spot where the chase was to come off was nearly thirty miles distant from the village. In the desert all places are alike, tall grass, in the midst of which the horsemen entirely disappear; stunted shrubs, and here and there clumps of trees, whose imposing crowns rise to an enormous height;—such was the road the Indians had to follow up to the spot where they would find the animals they proposed chasing.
In the prairies of Arkansas and the Upper Missouri, at the time of our story, ostriches were still numerous, and their chase one of the numerous amusements of the Redskins and wood rangers. It is probable that the successive invasions of the white men, and the immense clearings effected by fire and the axe, have now compelled them to abandon this territory, and retire to the inaccessible desert of the Rocky Mountains, or the sands of the Far West.
We will say here, without any pretence at a scientific description, a few words about this singular animal, still but little known in Europe. The ostrich generally lives in small families of from eight to ten, scattered along the banks of marshes, pools, and streams. They live on fresh grass. Faithful to their native soil, they never quit the vicinity of the water, and in the month of November lay their eggs in the wildest part of the plain, fifty to sixty at a time, which are brooded, solely at night, by male and female in turn, with a touching tenderness. When the incubation is terminated, the ostrich breaks the barren eggs with its beak, which are at once covered with flies and insects, supplying nourishment to the young birds. The ostrich of the Western prairies differs slightly from the Nandus of the Patagonian prairies and the African species. It is about five feet high, and four and a half long, from the stomach to the end of the tail; its beak is very pointed, and measures a little over five inches.
A characteristic trait of the ostriches is their extreme curiosity. In the Indian villages, where they live in a tamed state, it is of frequent occurrence to see them stalking through groups of talkers, and regarding them with fixed attention. In the plain this curiosity is often fatal to them, for it leads them to look unhesitatingly at everything that seems strange or unusual to them. We will give a capital Indian story here in proof of this.
The jaguars are very fond of ostrich meat, but unfortunately, though their speed is so great, it is almost impossible for them to run the birds down; but the jaguars are cunning animals, and usually obtain by craft what they cannot manage by force. They, therefore, employ the following stratagem. They lie on the ground as if dead, and raise their tails in the air, where they wave them in every direction; the ostriches, attracted by this strange spectacle, approach with great simplicity—the rest may be guessed; they fall a prey to the cunning jaguars.
The hunters after a hurried march of three hours, reached a barren and sandy plain; during the journey, very few words were exchanged between Natah Otann and his white guests, for he rode at the head of the column, conversing in a low voice with White Buffalo. The Indians dismounted by the side of a stream, and exchanged their horses for racers, which the chief had sent to the spot during the night, and which were naturally rested and able to run for miles. Natah Otann divided the hunting party into two equal troops, keeping the command of the first himself, and courteously offering that of the second to the Count. As the Frenchman, however, had never been present at such a chase, and was quite ignorant how it was conducted, he courteously declined. Natah Otann reflected for a few moments, and then turned to Bright-eye:—
"My brother knows the ostriches?" he asked him. "Eh!" the Canadian replied, with a smile; "Natah Otann was not yet born when I hunted them on the prairie."
"Good," the chief said; "then my brother will command the second band?"
"Be it so," the hunter said, bowing: "I accept with pleasure."
On a given signal, the first band, under Natah Otann's command, advanced into the plain, describing a semicircle, so as to drive the game towards a ravine, situated between two moving downs. The second band, with which the Count and Ivon remained, was echelonned so as to form the other half of the circle. This circle, by the horsemen's advance, was gradually being contracted, when a dozen ostriches showed themselves; but the male bird, standing sentry, warned the family of the danger by a sharp cry like a boatswain's whistle. At once the ostriches fled in a straight line rapidly, and without looking back. All the hunters galloped off in pursuit.
The plain, till then silent and gloomy, grew animated, and offered the strangest appearance. The horsemen pursued the luckless animals at full speed, raising in their passage clouds of impalpable dust. Twelve to fifteen paces behind the game, the Indians, still galloping and burying their spurs in the flanks of their panting horses, bent forward, twisted their formidable clubs round their heads, and hurled them after the animals. If they missed their aim, they stooped down without checking their pace, and picked up the weapon, which they cast again.
Several flocks of ostriches had been put up, and the chase then assumed the proportions of a mad revel. Cries and hurrahs rent the air; the clubs hurtled through the space and struck the necks, wings, and legs of the ostriches, which, startled and mad with terror, made a thousand feints and zigzags to escape their implacable enemies, and buffeting their wings, tried to prick the horses with, the species of spike with which the end of their wings is armed. Several horses reared, and, embarrassed by the ostriches between their legs, fell with their riders. The ostriches, profiting by the disorder, fled on, and came within reach of the other hunters, who received them with a shower of clubs.
Each hunter leaped from his horse, killed the victim he had felled, cut off its wings as a sign of triumph, and renewed the chase with increased ardour. Ostriches and hunters rushed onwards like the cordonazo, that terrible wind of the Mexican deserts, and forty ostriches speedily encumbered the plain. Natah Otann looked round him, and then gave the signal for retreat; the birds which had not succumbed to this rude aggression, ran off to seek shelter. The dead birds were carefully collected, for the ostrich is, excellent eating, and the Indians prepare, chiefly from the meat on the breast, a dish renowned for its delicacy and exquisite savour. The warriors then proceeded to collect eggs, also highly esteemed, and secured an ample crop.
Although the chase had scarce lasted two hours, the horses panted and wanted rest before they could return to the village; hence Natah Otann gave orders to stop. The Count had never been present at so strange a hunt before, although ever since he had been on the prairie he had pursued the different animals that inhabit it; hence he entered into it with all the excitement of youth, rushing on the ostriches and felling them with childlike pleasure. When the signal for retreat was given by the Chief, he reluctantly left off the amusement, which at the moment caused him such delight, and returned slowly to his comrades. Suddenly a loud cry was raised by the Indians, and each ran to his weapons. The Count looked around him with surprise, and felt a slight tremor. The ostrich hunt was over; but, as frequently happens in these countries, a far more terrible one was about to begin—the chase of the cougar.[1]
Two of these animals had suddenly made their appearance. The Count recovered at once, and, cocking his rifle, prepared to follow this new species of game. Natah Otann had also noticed the wild beasts; he ordered a dozen warriors to surround Prairie-Flower, whom he had obliged to accompany him, or who had insisted on being present; then, certain that the girl was, temporarily at least, in safety, he turned to a warrior standing at his side.
"Uncouple the dogs," he said.
A dozen mastiffs were let loose, which howled in chorus on seeing the wild beasts. The Indians, accustomed to see the ostrich hunt disturbed in this way, never fail, when they go out for their favourite exercise, to take with them dogs trained to attack the lion. About two hundred yards from the spots where the Indians had halted, two cougars were now crouching, with their eyes fixed on the Redskin warriors. These animals, still young, were about the size of a calf; their heads bore a strong, likeness to a cat's, and their soft smooth hide of silvery yellow was dotted with black spots.
"After them!" Natah Otann shouted.
Horsemen and dogs rushed on the ferocious beasts with yells, cries, and barks, capable of terrifying lions unused to such a reception. The noble animals, motionless and amazed, lashed their flanks with their long tails, and drew in heavy draughts of air; for a moment they remained stationary, then suddenly bounded away. A party of hunters galloped in a straight line to intercept their retreat, while the others bent over their saddles, and guiding their horses with their knees, fired their arrows and rifles, without checking the cougars which turned furiously on the dogs, and hurled them ten yards from them, to howl with pain. Still the mastiffs, long habituated to this chase, watched for a favourable moment, leaped on the lions' backs, and dug their nails in their flesh; but the latter, with one stroke of their deadly claws, swept them off like flies, and continued their flight.
One of them, pierced by several arrows, and surrounded by the dogs, rolled on the ground, raising a cloud of dust under its claws, and uttering a fearful yell. This one the Canadian finished by putting a bullet through its eye, but the second lion remained still unwounded, and its leaps foiled the attack and skill of the hunters. The dogs, now wearied, did not dare assail it. Its flight had led it a few paces from the spot where Prairie-Flower stood: it suddenly turned at right angles, bounded among the Indians, two of whom it ripped up, and crouched before the young girl, ere making its leap. Prairie-Flower, pale as a corpse, clasped her hands instinctively, uttered a stifled cry, and fainted. New cries replied to hers, and at the moment the lion was about to leap on the maiden, two bullets were buried in its chest. It turned to face its new adversary; it was the Count de Beaulieu.
"Let no one stir!" he exclaimed, stopping by a sign Natah Otann and Bright-eye, who ran up, "this game is mine—no other than I shall kill it."
The Count had dismounted, and with his feet firmly planted, his rifle at his shoulder, and eyes fixed on the lion, he waited. The lion hesitated, cast a final glance at the prey lying a few paces from it, and then rushed on the young man with a roar. He fired again: the animal bit the dust, and the Count, hunting knife in hand, ran up to it. The man and the lion rolled together on the ground, but soon one of the combatants rose again—it was the man. Prairie-Flower was saved. The maiden opened her eyes again, looked timidly around her, and holding out her hand to the Frenchman.
"Thanks!" she exclaimed, and burst into tears.
Natah Otann walked up to her.
"Silence!" he said, harshly; "what the Paleface has done Natah Otann could have achieved."
The Count smiled contemptuously, but made no reply, for he had recognized a rival.
[1] The felis discolor of Linnæus, or American lion.