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

by R. M. Ballantyne

CHAPTER XXIII.

Savage sports--Living cataracts--An alarm--Indians and their
doings--The stampede--Charlie again

.

One day Dick Varley was out on a solitary hunting

expedition near the rocky gorge where his horse

had received temporary burial a week or two before.

Crusoe was with him, of course. Dick had tied Charlie

to a tree, and was sunning himself on the edge of a cliff,

from the top of which he had a fine view of the valley

and the rugged precipices that hemmed it in.

Just in front of the spot on which he sat, the precipices

on the opposite side of the gorge rose to a considerable

height above him, so that their ragged outlines were

drawn sharply across the clear sky. Dick was gazing

in dreamy silence at the jutting rocks and dark caverns,

and speculating on the probable number of bears that

dwelt there, when a slight degree of restlessness on the

part of Crusoe attracted him.

"What is't, pup?" said he, laying his hand on the

dog's broad back.

Crusoe looked the answer, "I don't know, Dick, but

it's

something

, you may depend upon it, else I would

not have disturbed you."

Dick lifted his rifle from the ground, and laid it in

the hollow of his left arm.

"There must be something in the wind," remarked Dick.

As wind is known to be composed of two distinct

gases, Crusoe felt perfectly safe in replying "Yes" with

his tail. Immediately after he added, "Hallo! did you

hear that?" with his ears.

Dick did hear it, and sprang hastily to his feet, as

a sound like, yet unlike, distant thunder came faintly

down upon the breeze. In a few seconds the sound

increased to a roar in which was mingled the wild cries

of men. Neither Dick nor Crusoe moved, for the

sounds came from behind the heights in front of them,

and they felt that the only way to solve the question,

"What can the sounds be?" was to wait till the sounds

should solve it themselves.

Suddenly the muffled sounds gave place to the distinct

bellowing of cattle, the clatter of innumerable

hoofs, and the yells of savage men, while at the same

moment the edges of the opposite cliffs became alive

with Indians and buffaloes rushing about in frantic

haste--the former almost mad with savage excitement,

the latter with blind rage and terror.

On reaching the edge of the dizzy precipice, the

buffaloes turned abruptly and tossed their ponderous

heads as they coursed along the edge. Yet a few of

them, unable to check their headlong course, fell over,

and were dashed to pieces on the rocks below. Such

falls, Dick observed, were hailed with shouts of delight

by the Indians, whose sole object evidently was to

enjoy the sport of driving the terrified animals over the

precipice. The wily savages had chosen their ground

well for this purpose.

The cliff immediately opposite to Dick Varley was a

huge projection from the precipice that hemmed in the

gorge, a species of cape or promontory several hundred

yards wide at the base, and narrowing abruptly to a

point. The sides of this wedge-shaped projection were

quite perpendicular--indeed, in some places the top overhung

the base--and they were at least three hundred feet

high. Broken and jagged rocks, of that peculiarly

chaotic character which probably suggested the name to

this part of the great American chain, projected from

and were scattered all round the cliffs. Over these the

Indians, whose numbers increased every moment, strove

to drive the luckless herd of buffaloes that had chanced

to fall in their way. The task was easy. The unsuspecting

animals, of which there were hundreds, rushed

in a dense mass upon the cape referred to. On they

came with irresistible impetuosity, bellowing furiously,

while their hoofs thundered on the turf with the muffled

continuous roar of a distant but mighty cataract; the

Indians, meanwhile, urging them on by hideous yells and

frantic gestures.

The advance-guard came bounding madly to the edge

of the precipice. Here they stopped short, and gazed

affrighted at the gulf below. It was but for a moment.

The irresistible momentum of the flying mass behind

pushed them over. Down they came, absolutely a living

cataract, upon the rocks below. Some struck on the

projecting rocks in the descent, and their bodies were

dashed almost in pieces, while their blood spurted out

in showers. Others leaped from rock to rock with

awful bounds, until, losing their foothold, they fell

headlong; while others descended sheer down into the

sweltering mass that lay shattered at the base of the

cliffs.

Dick Varley and his dog remained rooted to the

rock, as they gazed at the sickening sight, as if petrified.

Scarce fifty of that noble herd of buffaloes escaped the

awful leap, but they escaped only to fall before the

arrows of their ruthless pursuers. Dick had often

heard of this tendency of the Indians, where buffaloes

were very numerous, to drive them over precipices in

mere wanton sport and cruelty, but he had never seen

it until now, and the sight filled his soul with horror.

It was not until the din and tumult of the perishing

herd and the shrill yells of the Indians had almost died

away that he turned to quit the spot. But the instant

he did so another shout was raised. The savages had

observed him, and were seen galloping along the cliffs

towards the head of the gorge, with the obvious intention

of gaining the other side and capturing him. Dick

sprang on Charlie's back, and the next instant was flying

down the valley towards the camp.

He did not, however, fear being overtaken, for the

gorge could not be crossed, and the way round the head

of it was long and rugged; but he was anxious to alarm

the camp as quickly as possible, so that they might

have time to call in the more distant trappers and make

preparations for defence.

"Where away now, youngster?" inquired Cameron,

emerging from his tent as Dick, taking the brook that

flowed in front at a flying leap, came crashing through

the bushes into the midst of the fur-packs at full speed.

"Injuns!" ejaculated Dick, reining up, and vaulting

out of the saddle. "Hundreds of 'em. Fiends incarnate

every one!"

"Are they near?"

"Yes; an hour'll bring them down on us. Are Joe

and Henri far from camp to-day?"

"At Ten-mile Creek," replied Cameron with an expression

of bitterness, as he caught up his gun and

shouted to several men, who hurried up on seeing our

hero burst into camp.

"Ten-mile Creek!" muttered Dick. "I'll bring 'em

in, though," he continued, glancing at several of the

camp horses that grazed close at hand.

In another moment he was on Charlie's back, the

line of one of the best horses was in his hand, and almost

before Cameron knew what he was about he was

flying down the valley like the wind. Charlie often

stretched out at full speed to please his young master,

but seldom had he been urged forward as he was upon

this occasion. The led horse being light and wild, kept

well up, and in a marvellously short space of time they

were at Ten-mile Creek.

"Hallo, Dick, wot's to do?" inquired Joe Blunt, who

was up to his knees in the water setting a trap at the

moment his friend galloped up.

"Injuns! Where's Henri?" demanded Dick.

"At the head o' the dam there."

Dick was off in a moment, and almost instantly returned

with Henri galloping beside him.

No word was spoken. In time of action these men

did not waste words. During Dick's momentary

absence, Joe Blunt had caught up his rifle and examined

the priming, so that when Dick pulled up beside

him he merely laid his hand on the saddle, saying, "All

right!" as he vaulted on Charlie's back behind his

young companion. In another moment they were away

at full speed. The mustang seemed to feel that unwonted

exertions were required of him. Double

weighted though he was, he kept well up with the other

horse, and in less than two hours after Dick's leaving

the camp the three hunters came in sight of it.

Meanwhile Cameron had collected nearly all his

forces and put his camp in a state of defence before the

Indians arrived, which they did suddenly, and, as usual,

at full gallop, to the amount of at least two hundred.

They did not at first seem disposed to hold friendly

intercourse with the trappers, but assembled in a semicircle

round the camp in a menacing attitude, while one

of their chiefs stepped forward to hold a palaver. For

some time the conversation on both sides was polite

enough, but by degrees the Indian chief assumed an

imperious tone, and demanded gifts from the trappers,

taking care to enforce his request by hinting that thousands

of his countrymen were not far distant. Cameron

stoutly refused, and the palaver threatened to come to

an abrupt and unpleasant termination just at the time

that Dick and his friends appeared on the scene of

action.

The brook was cleared at a bound; the three hunters

leaped from their steeds and sprang to the front with

a degree of energy that had a visible effect on the

savages; and Cameron, seizing the moment, proposed

that the two parties should smoke a pipe and hold a

council. The Indians agreed, and in a few minutes

they were engaged in animated and friendly intercourse.

The speeches were long, and the compliments paid on

either side were inflated, and, we fear, undeserved; but

the result of the interview was, that Cameron made the

Indians a present of tobacco and a few trinkets, and

sent them back to their friends to tell them that he

was willing to trade with them.

Next day the whole tribe arrived in the valley, and

pitched their deerskin tents on the plain opposite to

the camp of the white men. Their numbers far exceeded

Cameron's expectation, and it was with some

anxiety that he proceeded to strengthen his fortifications

as much as circumstances and the nature of the

ground would admit.

The Indian camp, which numbered upwards of a

thousand souls, was arranged with great regularity, and

was divided into three distinct sections, each section

being composed of a separate tribe. The Great Snake

nation at that time embraced three tribes or divisions--namely,

the Shirry-dikas, or dog-eaters; the War-are-ree-kas,

or fish-eaters; and the Banattees, or robbers.

These were the most numerous and powerful

Indians on the west side of the Rocky Mountains. The

Shirry-dikas dwelt in the plains, and hunted the buffaloes;

dressed well; were cleanly; rich in horses; bold,

independent, and good warriors. The War-are-ree-kas

lived chiefly by fishing, and were found on the banks

of the rivers and lakes throughout the country. They

were more corpulent, slovenly, and indolent than the

Shirry-dikas, and more peaceful. The Banattees, as

we have before mentioned, were the robbers of the

mountains. They were a wild and contemptible race,

and at enmity with every one. In summer they went

about nearly naked. In winter they clothed themselves

in the skins of rabbits and wolves. Being excellent

mimics, they could imitate the howling of

wolves, the neighing of horses, and the cries of birds, by

which means they could approach travellers, rob them,

and then fly to their rocky fastnesses in the mountains,

where pursuit was vain.

Such were the men who now assembled in front of

the camp of the fur-traders, and Cameron soon found

that the news of his presence in the country had spread

far and wide among the natives, bringing them to the

neighbourhood of his camp in immense crowds, so that

during the next few days their numbers increased to

thousands.

Several long palavers quickly ensued between the

red men and the white, and the two great chiefs who

seemed to hold despotic rule over the assembled tribes

were extremely favourable to the idea of universal peace

which was propounded to them. In several set speeches

of great length and very considerable power, these

natural orators explained their willingness to enter into

amicable relations with all the surrounding nations, as

well as with the white men.

"But," said Pee-eye-em, the chief of the Shirry-dikas,

a man above six feet high, and of immense muscular

strength--"but my tribe cannot answer for the Banattees,

who are robbers, and cannot be punished, because they dwell in

scattered

families among the mountains. The Banattees are bad; they cannot be

trusted."

None of the Banattees were present at the council

when this was said; and if they had been it would have

mattered little, for they were neither fierce nor courageous,

although bold enough in their own haunts to

murder and rob the unwary.

The second chief did not quite agree with Pee-eye-em.

He said that it was impossible for them to make

peace with their natural enemies, the Peigans and the

Blackfeet on the east side of the mountains. It was

very desirable, he admitted; but neither of these tribes

would consent to it, he felt sure.

Upon this Joe Blunt rose and said, "The great chief

of the War-are-ree-kas is wise, and knows that enemies

cannot be reconciled unless deputies are sent to make

proposals of peace."

"The Pale-face does not know the Blackfeet," answered

the chief. "Who will go into the lands of the

Blackfeet? My young men have been sent once and

again, and their scalps are now fringes to the leggings

of their enemies. The War-are-ree-kas do not cross the

mountains but for the purpose of making war."

"The chief speaks truth," returned Joe; "yet there

are three men round the council fire who will go to the

Blackfeet and the Peigans with messages of peace from

the Snakes if they wish it."

Joe pointed to himself, Henri, and Dick as he spoke, and added, "We

three

do not belong to the camp of the fur-traders; we only, lodge with them

for

a time. The Great Chief of the white men has sent us to make peace

with the

Red-men, and to tell them that he desires to trade with them--to

exchange

hatchets, and guns, and blankets for furs."

This declaration interested the two chiefs greatly, and

after a good deal of discussion they agreed to take advantage

of Joe Blunt's offer; and appoint him as a

deputy to the court of their enemies. Having arranged

these matters to their satisfaction, Cameron bestowed a

red flag and a blue surtout with brass buttons on each

of the chiefs, and a variety of smaller articles on the

other members of the council, and sent them away in a

particularly amiable frame of mind.

Pee-eye-em burst the blue surtout at the shoulders

and elbows in putting it on, as it was much too small

for his gigantic frame; but never having seen such an

article of apparel before, he either regarded this as the

natural and proper consequence of putting it on, or was

totally indifferent to it, for he merely looked at the

rents with a smile of satisfaction, while his squaw surreptitiously

cut off the two back buttons and thrust

them into her bosom.

By the time the council closed the night was far advanced,

and a bright moon was shedding a flood of soft

light over the picturesque and busy scene.

"I'll go to the Injun camp," said Joe to Walter Cameron,

as the chiefs rose to depart. "The season's far

enough advanced already; it's time to be off; and if

I'm to speak for the Redskins in the Blackfeet Council,

I'd need to know what to say."

"Please yourself, Master Blunt," answered Cameron.

"I like your company and that of your friends, and if it suited you I

would

be glad to take you along with us to the coast of the Pacific; but

your

mission among the

Indians is a good one, and I'll help it on all I can.--I suppose you

will

go also?" he added, turning to Dick Varley, who was still seated

beside the

council fire caressing Crusoe.

"Wherever Joe goes, I go," answered Dick.

Crusoe's tail, ears, and eyes demonstrated high approval

of the sentiment involved in this speech.

"And your friend Henri?"

"He goes too," answered Joe. "It's as well that the

Redskins should see the three o' us before we start for

the east side o' the mountains.--Ho, Henri! come here,

lad."

Henri obeyed, and in a few seconds the three friends

crossed the brook to the Indian camp, and were guided

to the principal lodge by Pee-eye-em. Here a great

council was held, and the proposed attempt at negotiations

for peace with their ancient enemies fully discussed.

While they were thus engaged, and just as

Pee-eye-em had, in the energy of an enthusiastic peroration,

burst the blue surtout

almost

up to the collar, a

distant rushing sound was heard, which caused every

man to spring to his feet, run out of the tent, and seize

his weapons.

"What can it be, Joe?" whispered Dick as they stood

at the tent door leaning on their rifles, and listening

intently.

"Dun'no'," answered Joe shortly.

Most of the numerous fires of the camp had gone out,

but the bright moon revealed the dusky forms of thousands of Indians,

whom

the unwonted sound had startled,

moving rapidly about.

The mystery was soon explained. The Indian camp

was pitched on an open plain of several miles in extent,

which took a sudden bend half-a-mile distant, where a

spur of the mountains shut out the farther end of the

valley from view. From beyond this point the dull

rumbling sound proceeded. Suddenly there was a roar

as if a mighty cataract had been let loose upon the

scene. At the same moment a countless herd of wild

horses came thundering round the base of the mountain

and swept over the plain straight towards the Indian

camp.

"A stampede!" cried Joe, springing to the assistance

of Pee-eye-em, whose favourite horses were picketed

near the tent.

On they came like a living torrent, and the thunder

of a thousand hoofs was soon mingled with the howling

of hundreds of dogs in the camp, and the yelling of

Indians, as they vainly endeavoured to restrain the

rising excitement of their steeds. Henri and Dick

stood rooted to the ground, gazing in silent wonder at

the fierce and uncontrollable gallop of the thousands of

panic-stricken horses that bore down upon the camp

with the tumultuous violence of a mighty cataract.

As the maddened troop drew nigh, the camp horses

began to snort and tremble violently, and when the

rush of the wild steeds was almost upon them, they

became ungovernable with terror, broke their halters

and hobbles, and dashed wildly about. To add to the

confusion at that moment, a cloud passed over the moon

and threw the whole scene into deep obscurity. Blind

with terror, which was probably increased by the din

of their own mad flight, the galloping troop came on,

and with a sound like the continuous roar of thunder

that for an instant drowned the yell of dog and man

they burst upon the camp, trampling over packs and

skins, and dried meat, etc., in their headlong speed, and

overturning several of the smaller tents. In another

moment they swept out upon the plain beyond, and

were soon lost in the darkness of the night, while the

yelping of dogs, as they vainly pursued them, mingled

and gradually died away with the distant thunder of

their retreat.

This was a

stampede

, one of the most extraordinary

scenes that can be witnessed in the western wilderness.

"Lend a hand, Henri," shouted Joe, who was struggling

with a powerful horse. "Wot's comed over yer

brains, man? This brute'll git off if you don't look

sharp."

Dick and Henri both answered to the summons, and

they succeeded in throwing the struggling animal on its

side and holding it down until its excitement was somewhat

abated. Pee-eye-em had also been successful in

securing his favourite hunter: but nearly every other

horse belonging to the camp had broken loose and joined

the whirlwind gallop. But they gradually dropped out,

and before morning the most of them were secured by

their owners. As there were at least two thousand

horses and an equal number of dogs in the part of the

Indian camp which had been thus overrun by the wild

mustangs, the turmoil, as may be imagined, was prodigious!

Yet, strange to say, no accident of a serious

nature occurred beyond the loss of several chargers.

In the midst of this exciting scene there was one

heart which beat with a nervous vehemence that well-nigh

burst it. This was the heart of Dick Varley's

horse, Charlie. Well known to him was that distant

rumbling sound that floated on the night air into the

fur-traders' camp, where he was picketed close to

Cameron's tent. Many a time had he heard the approach

of such a wild troop, and often, in days not long

gone by, had his shrill neigh rung out as he joined and

led the panic-stricken band. He was first to hear the

sound, and by his restive actions to draw the attention

of the fur-traders to it. As a precautionary measure

they all sprang up and stood by their horses to soothe

them, but as a brook with a belt of bushes and quarter

of a mile of plain intervened between their camp and

the mustangs as they flew past, they had little or no

trouble in restraining them. Not so, however, with

Charlie. At the very moment that his master was congratulating

himself on the supposed security of his position,

he wrenched the halter from the hand of him who

held it, burst through the barrier of felled trees that

had been thrown round the camp, cleared the brook at

a bound, and with a wild hilarious neigh resumed his

old place in the ranks of the free-born mustangs of the

prairie.

Little did Dick think, when the flood of horses swept

past him, that his own good steed was there, rejoicing

in his recovered liberty. But Crusoe knew it. Ay,

the wind had borne down the information to his acute

nose before the living storm burst upon the camp; and

when Charlie rushed past, with the long tough halter

trailing at his heels, Crusoe sprang to his side, seized

the end of the halter with his teeth, and galloped off

along with him.

It was a long gallop and a tough one, but Crusoe held

on, for it was a settled principle in his mind

never

to

give in. At first the check upon Charlie's speed was

imperceptible, but by degrees the weight of the gigantic

dog began to tell, and after a time they fell a little to

the rear; then by good fortune the troop passed through

a mass of underwood, and the line getting entangled

brought their mad career forcibly to a close; the mustangs

passed on, and the two friends were left to keep

each other company in the dark.

How long they would have remained thus is uncertain,

for neither of them had sagacity enough to undo a

complicated entanglement. Fortunately, however, in his

energetic tugs at the line, Crusoe's sharp teeth partially

severed it, and a sudden start on the part of Charlie

caused it to part. Before he could escape, Crusoe again

seized the end of it, and led him slowly but steadily

back to the Indian camp, never halting or turning aside

until he had placed the line in Dick Varley's hand.

"Hallo, pup! where have ye bin? How did ye bring

him here?" exclaimed Dick, as he gazed in amazement

at his foam-covered horse.

Crusoe wagged his tail, as if to say, "Be thankful

that you've got him, Dick, my boy, and don't ask questions

that you know I can't answer."

"He must ha' broke loose and jined the stampede,"

remarked Joe, coming out of the chief's tent at the

moment; "but tie him up, Dick, and come in, for we

want to settle about startin' to-morrow or nixt day."

Having fastened Charlie to a stake, and ordered

Crusoe to watch him, Dick re-entered the tent where

the council had reassembled, and where Pee-eye-em--having,

in the recent struggle, split the blue surtout

completely up to the collar, so that his backbone was

visible throughout the greater part of its length--was

holding forth in eloquent strains on the subject of peace

in general and peace with the Blackfeet, the ancient

enemies of the Shirry-dikas, in particular.