"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.