Jack Among the Indians; Or, A Boy's Summer on the Buffalo Plains

by George Bird Grinnell

"Oh, nothing happened," said Hugh, "they just went off, and after a while they got back to the village."

"Well, but," said Jack, "is that all of the story?"

"Yes," said Hugh, "that's the end."

"Well," said Jack, "I don't see anything queer about that."

"Well," said Hugh, "you see, them buttons was ten dollar gold pieces."

"Oh!" said Jack.

"I often tried," said Hugh, "to find out just where it was that those four boxes of gold were left, but I never managed to find out."

By this time they were almost at the point where they had left their horses the day before, and before long the three were standing about the place from which the sack of gold had been unearthed. Hugh sifted the loose soil at the bottom of the hole through his fingers and discovered a few small nuggets that had escaped the boys, and then they made a careful search of the prairie near at hand. Nothing was discovered, and at length, Hugh told the boys to mount their horses and the three spread out riding back over the prairie, looking carefully over it and into all the ravines, to see if signs of any sort could be seen.

The search was fruitless, and at length, from the top of a high knoll, Hugh rode his horse in a circle to call the boys to him. They came galloping toward him from either hand, but suddenly, Joe, who had disappeared behind a ridge, rode up onto it and in his turn rode in a circle, and Hugh and Jack went toward him. When they reached the ridge, he had ridden down again into the hollow and was standing at the edge of a little green place, and when they got to him, they saw before him, the skeleton of a horse, which had long been dead. Hugh looked at it carefully and then said, "Mule." Fragments of wood, lying by the animal's back-bone, were evidently the remains of a pack saddle, but nothing else was seen.

Hugh stood for a long time, looking at the skeleton, parts of which were scattered over quite a little area, showing where the wolves had pulled the bones about. Suddenly Hugh bent forward, and working his fingers in the grass near the animal's back-bone, drew forth a slender fragment of wood, which he held up before the boys' eyes. It was a part of an arrow, though the bent gray wood seemed little like the straight, clean shaft that they were accustomed to use. But by looking closely, they could see the grooves, and a little search in the soil and among the grass brought to light another piece of the shaft and a rusted sheet iron head long since separated from the wood.