CHAPTER XV.
Health and happiness return
--
Incidents of the journey
--
A
buffalo shot
--
A wild horse "creased"
--
Dick's battle with
a mustang
.
Dick Varley's fears and troubles, in the meantime,
were ended. On the day following he
awoke refreshed and happy--so happy and light at
heart, as he felt the glow of returning health coursing
through his veins, that he fancied he must have dreamed
it all. In fact, he was so certain that his muscles were
strong that he endeavoured to leap up, but was powerfully
convinced of his true condition by the miserable
stagger that resulted from the effort.
However, he knew he was recovering, so he rose, and
thanking God for his recovery, and for the new hope
that was raised in his heart, he went down to the pool
and drank deeply of its water. Then he returned, and,
sitting down beside his dog, opened the Bible and read
long--and, for the first time,
earnestly
--the story of
Christ's love for sinful man. He at last fell asleep over
the book, and when he awakened felt so much refreshed
in body and mind that he determined to attempt to
pursue his journey.
He had not proceeded far when he came upon a
colony of prairie-dogs. Upon this occasion he was little
inclined to take a humorous view of the vagaries of
these curious little creatures, but he shot one, and, as
before, ate part of it raw. These creatures are so active
that they are difficult to shoot, and even when killed
generally fall into their holes and disappear. Crusoe,
however, soon unearthed the dead animal on this occasion.
That night the travellers came to a stream of
fresh water, and Dick killed a turkey, so that he determined
to spend a couple of days there to recruit. At
the end of that time he again set out, but was able only
to advance five miles when he broke down. In fact, it
became evident to him that he must have a longer period
of absolute repose ere he could hope to continue his
journey; but to do so without food was impossible.
Fortunately there was plenty of water, as his course lay
along the margin of a small stream, and, as the arid
piece of prairie was now behind him, he hoped to fall in
with birds, or perhaps deer, soon.
While he was plodding heavily and wearily along,
pondering these things, he came to the brow of a wave
from which he beheld a most magnificent view of green
grassy plains decked with flowers, and rolling out to
the horizon, with a stream meandering through it, and
clumps of trees scattered everywhere far and wide. It
was a glorious sight; but the most glorious object in it
to Dick, at that time, was a fat buffalo which stood
grazing not a hundred yards off. The wind was blowing
towards him, so that the animal did not scent him,
and, as he came up very slowly, and it was turned away,
it did not see him.
Crusoe would have sprung forward in an instant, but
his master's finger imposed silence and caution. Trembling
with eagerness, Dick sank flat down in the grass,
cocked both barrels of his piece, and, resting it on his
left hand with his left elbow on the ground, he waited
until the animal should present its side. In a few
seconds it moved; Dick's eye glanced along the barrel,
but it trembled--his wonted steadiness of aim was
gone. He fired, and the buffalo sprang off in terror.
With a groan of despair he fired again---almost recklessly--and
the buffalo fell! It rose once or twice and
stumbled forward a few paces, then it fell again. Meanwhile
Dick reloaded with trembling hand, and advanced
to give it another shot; but it was not needful--the
buffalo was already dead.
"Now, Crusoe," said Dick, sitting down on the buffalo's
shoulder and patting his favourite on the head, "we're
all right at last. You and I shall have a jolly time o't,
pup, from this time for'ard."
Dick paused for breath, and Crusoe wagged his tail
and looked as if to say--pshaw! "
as if!
"
We tell you what it is, reader, it's of no use at all to
go on writing "as if," when we tell you what Crusoe
said. If there is any language in eyes whatever--if
there is language in a tail, in a cocked ear, in a mobile
eyebrow, in the point of a canine nose,--if there is
language in any terrestrial thing at all, apart from that
which flows from the tongue, then Crusoe
spoke!
Do
we not speak at this moment to
you?
and if so, then
tell me wherein lies the difference between a written
letter
and a given
sign?
Yes, Crusoe spoke. He said to Dick as plain as dog
could say it, slowly and emphatically, "That's my opinion
precisely, Dick. You're the dearest, most beloved, jolliest
fellow that ever walked on two legs, you are; and
whatever's your opinion is mine, no matter
how
absurd
it may be."
Dick evidently understood him perfectly, for he
laughed as he looked at him and patted him on the
head, and called him a "funny dog." Then he continued
his discourse:--
"Yes, pup, we'll make our camp here for a long bit,
old dog, in this beautiful plain. We'll make a willow
wigwam to sleep in, you and I, jist in yon clump o'
trees, not a stone's-throw to our right, where we'll have
a run o' pure water beside us, and be near our buffalo
at the same time. For, ye see, we'll need to watch him
lest the wolves take a notion to eat him--that'll be
your
duty, pup. Then I'll skin him when I get strong
enough, which'll be in a day or two, I hope, and we'll
put one-half of the skin below us and t'other half above
us i' the camp, an' sleep, an' eat, an' take it easy for a
week or two--won't we, pup?"
"Hoora-a-a-y!" shouted Crusoe, with a jovial wag of
his tail, that no human arm with hat, or cap, or kerchief
ever equalled.
Poor Dick Varley! He smiled to think how earnestly
he had been talking to the dog; but he did not cease to
do it, for although he entered into discourses the drift
of which Crusoe's limited education did not permit him
to follow, he found comfort in hearing the sound of his
own voice, and in knowing that it fell pleasantly on
another ear in that lonely wilderness.
Our hero now set about his preparations as vigorously
as he could. He cut out the buffalo's tongue--a matter
of great difficulty to one in his weak state--and carried
it to a pleasant spot near to the stream where the turf
was level and green, and decked with wild flowers.
Here he resolved to make his camp.
His first care was to select a bush whose branches
were long enough to form a canopy over his head when
bent, and the ends thrust into the ground. The completing
of this exhausted him greatly, but after a rest
he resumed his labours. The next thing was to light a
fire--a comfort which he had not enjoyed for many
weary days. Not that he required it for warmth, for
the weather was extremely warm, but he required it to
cook with, and the mere
sight
of a blaze in a dark place
is a most heart-cheering thing, as every one knows.
When the fire was lighted he filled his pannikin at
the brook and put it on to boil, and cutting several
slices of buffalo tongue, he thrust short stakes through
them and set them up before the fire to roast. By this
time the water was boiling, so he took it off with difficulty,
nearly burning his fingers and singeing the tail of
his coat in so doing. Into the pannikin he put a lump
of maple sugar, and stirred it about with a stick, and
tasted it. It seemed to him even better than tea or
coffee. It was absolutely delicious!
Really one has no notion what he can do if he makes
believe
very hard
. The human mind is a nicely balanced
and extremely complex machine, and when thrown a
little off the balance can be made to believe almost anything,
as we see in the case of some poor monomaniacs,
who have fancied that they were made of all sorts of
things--glass and porcelain, and such like. No wonder
then that poor Dick Varley, after so much suffering and
hardship, came to regard that pannikin of hot sirup as
the most delicious beverage he ever drank.
During all these operations Crusoe sat on his haunches
beside him and looked. And you haven't, no, you
haven't got the most distant notion of the way in which
that dog manoeuvred with his head and face. He opened
his eyes wide, and cocked his ears, and turned his head
first a little to one side, then a little to the other. After
that he turned it a
good deal
to one side, and then a
good deal more to the other. Then he brought it straight,
and raised one eyebrow a little, and then the other a
little, and then both together very much. Then, when
Dick paused to rest and did nothing, Crusoe looked mild
for a moment, and yawned vociferously. Presently Dick
moved--up went the ears again, and Crusoe came, in
military parlance, "to the position of attention!" At
last supper was ready and they began.
Dick had purposely kept the dog's supper back from
him, in order that they might eat it in company. And
between every bite and sup that Dick took, he gave a
bite--but not a sup--to Crusoe. Thus lovingly they
ate together; and when Dick lay that night under the
willow branches, looking up through them at the stars,
with his feet to the fire and Crusoe close along his side,
he thought it the best and sweetest supper he ever ate,
and the happiest evening he ever spent--so wonderfully
do circumstances modify our notions of felicity.
Two weeks after this "Richard was himself again."
The muscles were springy, and the blood coursed fast
and free, as was its wont. Only a slight, and, perhaps,
salutary feeling of weakness remained, to remind him
that young muscles might again become more helpless
than those of an aged man or a child.
Dick had left his encampment a week ago, and was
now advancing by rapid stages towards the Rocky
Mountains, closely following the trail of his lost comrades,
which he had no difficulty in finding and keeping
now that Crusoe was with him. The skin of the buffalo
that he had killed was now strapped to his shoulders,
and the skin of another animal that he had shot a few
days after was cut up into a long line and slung in a
coil round his neck. Crusoe was also laden. He had a
little bundle of meat slung on each side of him.
For some time past numerous herds of mustangs, or
wild horses, had crossed their path, and Dick was now
on the look-out for a chance to
crease
one of those magnificent
creatures.
On one occasion a band of mustangs galloped close
up to him before they were aware of his presence, and
stopped short with a wild snort of surprise on beholding
him; then, wheeling round, they dashed away at full
gallop, their long tails and manes flying wildly in the
air, and their hoofs thundering on the plain. Dick
did not attempt to crease one upon this occasion, fearing
that his recent illness might have rendered his hand too
unsteady for so extremely delicate an operation.
In order to crease a wild horse the hunter requires
to be a perfect shot, and it is not every man of the west
who carries a rifle that can do it successfully. Creasing
consists in sending a bullet through the gristle of the
mustang's neck, just above the bone, so as to stun the
animal. If the ball enters a hair's-breadth too low,
the horse falls dead instantly. If it hits the exact
spot, the horse falls as instantaneously, and dead to all
appearance; but, in reality, he is only stunned, and if
left for a few minutes will rise and gallop away nearly
as well as ever. When hunters crease a horse successfully
they put a rope, or halter, round his under jaw
and hobbles round his feet, so that when he rises he
is secured, and, after considerable trouble, reduced to
obedience.
The mustangs which roam in wild freedom on the
prairies of the far west are descended from the noble
Spanish steeds that were brought over by the wealthy
cavaliers who accompanied Fernando Cortez, the conqueror
of Mexico, in his expedition to the New World in
1518. These bold, and, we may add, lawless cavaliers
were mounted on the finest horses that could be procured
from Barbary and the deserts of the Old World. The
poor Indians of the New World were struck with amazement
and terror at these awful beings, for, never having
seen horses before, they believed that horse and rider
were one animal. During the wars that followed many
of the Spaniards were killed, and their steeds bounded
into the wilds of the new country, to enjoy a life of
unrestrained freedom. These were the forefathers of
the present race of magnificent creatures which are
found in immense droves all over the western wilderness,
from the Gulf of Mexico to the confines of the
snowy regions of the far north.
At first the Indians beheld these horses with awe and
terror, but gradually they became accustomed to them,
and finally succeeded in capturing great numbers and
reducing them to a state of servitude. Not, however,
to the service of the cultivated field, but to the service
of the chase and war. The savages soon acquired the
method of capturing wild horses by means of the lasso--as
the noose at that end of a long line of raw hide is
termed--which they adroitly threw over the heads of
the animals and secured them, having previously run
them down. At the present day many of the savage
tribes of the west almost live upon horseback, and
without these useful creatures they could scarcely subsist,
as they are almost indispensable in the chase of
the buffalo.
Mustangs are regularly taken by the Indians to the
settlements of the white men for trade, but very poor
specimens are these of the breed of wild horses. This
arises from two causes. First, the Indian cannot overtake
the finest of a drove of wild mustangs, because his own
steed is inferior to the best among the wild ones, besides
being weighted with a rider, so that only the weak and
inferior animals are captured. And, secondly, when the
Indian does succeed in lassoing a first-rate horse he
keeps it for his own use. Thus, those who have not
visited the far-off prairies and seen the mustang in all
the glory of untrammelled freedom, can form no adequate
idea of its beauty, fleetness, and strength.
The horse, however, was not the only creature imported
by Cortez. There were priests in his army who
rode upon asses, and although we cannot imagine that
the "fathers" charged with the cavaliers and were unhorsed,
or, rather, un-assed in battle, yet, somehow, the
asses got rid of their riders and joined the Spanish
chargers in their joyous bound into a new life of freedom.
Hence wild asses also are found in the western
prairies. But think not, reader, of those poor miserable
wretches we see at home, which seem little better than
rough door-mats sewed up and stuffed, with head, tail,
and legs attached, and just enough of life infused to
make them move! No, the wild ass of the prairie is a
large powerful, swift creature. He has the same long
ears, it is true, and the same hideous, exasperating bray,
and the same tendency to flourish his heels; but for all
that he is a very fine animal, and often wages
successful
warfare with the wild horse.
But to return. The next drove of mustangs that
Dick and Crusoe saw were feeding quietly and unsuspectingly
in a rich green hollow in the plain. Dick's
heart leaped up as his eyes suddenly fell on them, for
he had almost discovered himself before he was aware
of their presence.
"Down, pup!" he whispered, as he sank and disappeared
among the grass, which was just long enough
to cover him when lying quite flat.
Crusoe crouched immediately, and his master made
his observations of the drove, and the dispositions of
the ground that might favour his approach, for they
were not within rifle range. Having done so he crept
slowly back until the undulation of the prairie hid him
from view; then he sprang to his feet, and ran a considerable
distance along the bottom until he gained the
extreme end of a belt of low bushes, which would effectually
conceal him while he approached to within a
hundred yards or less of the troop.
Here he made his arrangements. Throwing down
his buffalo robe, he took the coil of line and cut off a
piece of about three yards in length. On this he made
a running noose. The longer line he also prepared
with a running noose. These he threw in a coil over
his arm.
He also made a pair of hobbles, and placed them in
the breast of his coat, and then, taking up his rifle,
advanced cautiously through the bushes--Crusoe following
close behind him. In a few minutes he was gazing
in admiration at the mustangs, which were now within
easy shot, and utterly ignorant of the presence of man,
for Dick had taken care to approach in such a way
that the wind did not carry the scent of him in their
direction.
And well might he admire them. The wild horse of
these regions is not very large, but it is exceedingly
powerful, with prominent eye, sharp nose, distended
nostril, small feet, and a delicate leg. Their beautiful
manes hung at great length down their arched necks,
and their thick tails swept the ground. One magnificent
fellow in particular attracted Dick's attention.
He was of a rich dark-brown colour, with black mane
and tail, and seemed to be the leader of the drove.
Although not the nearest to him, he resolved to crease
this horse. It is said that creasing generally destroys
or damages the spirit of the horse, so Dick determined
to try whether his powers of close shooting would not serve him on
this
occasion. Going down on one knee he aimed at the creature's neck, just
a
hair's-breadth
above the spot where he had been told that hunters
usually hit them, and fired. The effect upon the group
was absolutely tremendous. With wild cries and snorting
terror they tossed their proud heads in the air,
uncertain for one moment in which direction to fly;
then there was a rush as if a hurricane swept over the
place, and they were gone.
But the brown horse was down. Dick did not wait
until the others had fled. He dropped his rifle, and
with the speed of a deer sprang towards the fallen
horse, and affixed the hobbles to his legs. His aim had
been true. Although scarcely half a minute elapsed
between the shot and the fixing of the hobbles, the
animal recovered, and with a frantic exertion rose on
his haunches, just as Dick had fastened the noose of
the short line in his under jaw. But this was not
enough. If the horse had gained his feet before the
longer line was placed round his neck, he would have
escaped. As the mustang made the second violent
plunge that placed it on its legs, Dick flung the noose
hastily; it caught on one ear, and would have fallen
off, had not the horse suddenly shaken its head, and
unwittingly sealed its own fate by bringing the noose
round its neck.
And now the struggle began. Dick knew well
enough, from hearsay, the method of "breaking down"
a wild horse. He knew that the Indians choke them
with the noose round the neck until they fall down
exhausted and covered with foam, when they creep up,
fix the hobbles, and the line in the lower jaw, and then
loosen the lasso to let the horse breathe, and resume its
plungings till it is almost subdued, when they gradually
draw near and breathe into its nostrils. But the violence
and strength of this animal rendered this an
apparently hopeless task. We have already seen that
the hobbles and noose in the lower jaw had been fixed,
so that Dick had nothing now to do but to choke his
captive, and tire him out, while Crusoe remained a quiet
though excited spectator of the scene.
But there seemed to be no possibility of choking this
horse. Either the muscles of his neck were too strong,
or there was something wrong with the noose which
prevented it from acting, for the furious creature dashed
and bounded backwards and sideways in its terror for
nearly an hour, dragging Dick after it, till he was
almost exhausted; and yet, at the end of that time,
although flecked with foam and panting with terror,
it seemed as strong as ever. Dick held both lines, for
the short one attached to its lower jaw gave him great
power over it. At last he thought of seeking assistance
from his dog.
"Crusoe," he cried, "lay hold, pup!"
The dog seized the long line in his teeth and pulled
with all his might. At the same moment Dick let go
the short line and threw all his weight upon the long
one. The noose tightened suddenly under this strain,
and the mustang, with a gasp, fell choking to the
ground.
Dick had often heard of the manner in which the
Mexicans "break" their horses, so he determined to
abandon the method which had already almost worn
him out, and adopt the other, as far as the means in
his power rendered it possible. Instead, therefore, of
loosening the lasso and re-commencing the struggle, he
tore a branch from a neighbouring bush, cut the hobbles,
strode with his legs across the fallen steed, seized the
end of the short line or bridle, and then, ordering Crusoe
to quit his hold, he loosened the noose which compressed
the horse's neck and had already well-nigh terminated
its existence.
One or two deep sobs restored it, and in a moment
it leaped to its feet with Dick firmly on its back. To
say that the animal leaped and kicked in its frantic
efforts to throw this intolerable burden would be a tame
manner of expressing what took place. Words cannot
adequately describe the scene. It reared, plunged,
shrieked, vaulted into the air, stood straight up
on its hind legs, and then almost as straight upon its fore
ones; but its rider held on like a burr. Then the
mustang raced wildly forwards a few paces, then as
wildly back, and then stood still and trembled violently.
But this was only a brief lull in the storm, so Dick saw
that the time was now come to assert the superiority of
his race.
"Stay back, Crusoe, and watch my rifle, pup," he
cried, and raising his heavy switch he brought it down
with a sharp cut across the horse's flank, at the same
time loosening the rein which hitherto he had held
tight.
The wild horse uttered a passionate cry, and sprang
forward like the bolt from a cross-bow.
And now commenced a race which, if not so prolonged,
was at least as furious as that of the far-famed
Mazeppa. Dick was a splendid rider, however--at
least as far as "sticking on" goes. He might not
have come up to the precise pitch desiderated by a
riding-master in regard to carriage, etc., but he rode
that wild horse of the prairie with as much ease as he
had formerly ridden his own good steed, whose bones
had been picked by the wolves not long ago.
The pace was tremendous, for the youth's weight
was nothing to that muscular frame, which bounded
with cat-like agility from wave to wave of the undulating
plain in ungovernable terror. In a few minutes
the clump of willows where Crusoe and his rifle lay
were out of sight behind; but it mattered not, for Dick
had looked up at the sky and noted the position of the
sun at the moment of starting. Away they went on
the wings of the wind, mile after mile over the ocean-like
waste--curving slightly aside now and then to
avoid the bluffs that occasionally appeared on the
scene for a few minutes and then swept out of sight
behind them. Then they came to a little rivulet. It
was a mere brook of a few feet wide, and two or three
yards, perhaps, from bank to bank. Over this they
flew so easily that the spring was scarcely felt, and
continued the headlong course. And now a more
barren country was around them. Sandy ridges and
scrubby grass appeared everywhere, reminding Dick of
the place where he had been so ill. Rocks, too, were
scattered about, and at one place the horse dashed
with clattering hoofs between a couple of rocky sand-hills which, for
a few
seconds, hid the prairie from
view. Here the mustang suddenly shied with such
violence that his rider was nearly thrown, while a
rattlesnake darted from the path. Soon they emerged
from this pass, and again the plains became green and
verdant. Presently a distant line of trees showed that
they were approaching water, and in a few minutes
they were close on it. For the first time Dick felt
alarm. He sought to check his steed, but no force he
could exert had the smallest influence on it.
Trees and bushes flew past in bewildering confusion.
The river was before him; what width, he could not
tell, but he was reckless now, like his charger, which he
struck with the willow rod with all his force as they
came up. One tremendous bound, and they were
across, but Dick had to lie flat on the mustang's back
as it crashed through the bushes to avoid being scraped
off by the trees. Again they were on the open plain,
and the wild horse began to show signs of exhaustion.
Now was its rider's opportunity to assert his dominion.
He plied the willow rod and urged the panting
horse on, until it was white with foam and laboured
a little in its gait. Then Dick gently drew the halter,
and it broke into a trot; still tighter, and it walked,
and in another minute stood still, trembling in every
limb. Dick now quietly rubbed its neck, and spoke
to it in soothing tones; then he wheeled it gently
round, and urged it forward. It was quite subdued
and docile. In a little time they came to the river
and forded it, after which they went through the belt
of woodland at a walk. By the time they reached the
open prairie the mustang was recovered sufficiently to
feel its spirit returning, so Dick gave it a gentle touch
with the switch, and away they went on their return
journey.
But it amazed Dick not a little to find how long
that journey was. Very different was the pace, too,
from the previous mad gallop, and often would the poor
horse have stopped had Dick allowed him. But this
might not be. The shades of night were approaching,
and the camp lay a long way ahead.
At last it was reached, and Crusoe came out with
great demonstrations of joy, but was sent back lest he
should alarm the horse. Then Dick jumped off his
back, stroked his head, put his cheek close to his
mouth and whispered softly to him, after which he
fastened him to a tree and rubbed him down slightly
with a bunch of grass. Having done this, he left him
to graze as far as his tether would permit; and, after
supping with Crusoe, lay down to-rest, not a little
elated with his success in this first attempt at "creasing"
and "breaking" a mustang.