The Boy Hunters

by Mayne Reid

“I have heard,” said Basil, “that they can fling themselves down for a hundred feet or more upon their horns, without receiving the slightest injury. Is that true, Luce?”

“Both the Indians and trappers affirm it, and intelligent travellers have believed them. Whether it be true or not is a question among naturalists, that remains to be cleared up. It is certain that they can leap downward for a very great distance—that they can alight on the narrowest shelves of a precipice without a hoof slipping—that they can spring across fearful chasms, and run swiftly along ledges where a dog or a wolf would not dare to venture. Indeed, they seem to delight in such situations—as if it gave them a pleasure to court danger, just as a school-boy likes to luxuriate in perilous feats of agility.”

“Are these the same that are called ‘big-horns’ by the hunters?” demanded François.

“The same,” answered Lucien; “‘cimmaron’ is the name given by the Spaniards—the earliest explorers of these regions. Naturalists have named them ‘argali,’ from their resemblance to the argali (Ovis ammon), or wild sheep of Europe. They are not the same species, however. In my opinion, they are not wild sheep at all, but true antelopes, as much so as the chamois of the Alps, or the prong-horns of the prairie. Indeed, to say that our common sheep sprung from the argali seems a very absurd theory. There is but little resemblance between the two animals, except about the head and horns of the rams; and, I think, no circumstances could have caused such a difference as there exists between them in other respects. I should say, then, that the big-horns are not sheep, but antelopes—mountain antelopes, you might call them, to distinguish them from their prong-horned cousins, who prefer to range over the plains, while they, on the contrary, spend most of their time among the steep and craggy cliffs.”

An exclamation from Basil, who was walking a few paces in advance, at this moment summoned the attention of his brothers, and put an end to this conversation. They had arrived at the eastern end of the butte, which on that side presented a different appearance from either of the others. There was a deep ravine that indented the cliff, and along its channel a sloping path appeared to lead up to the top. This channel was filled with large loose rocks, surrounded by an underwood of cacti and acacia thorns; and it seemed as though the slope was sufficiently easy to be ascended by a person on foot. Near the bottom of the ravine were very large boulders; and a spring, more copious than the one where the hunters had encamped, ran out from among them, and flowed south-eastward through a fringe of grass and willows.

As the boys came up to the spring branch, some tracks in the soft mud drew their attention. They were of an oblong shape, and larger than the footprints of a man; but the deep holes made by five great claws at the end of each told what animal had made them. They were the tracks of the grizzly bear. There could be no doubt of this, for there were the prints of the long plantigrade feet, the tubercules of the toes, and the holes where the curving claws had sunk several inches into the mud. No other animal could have made such marks—not even the black or brown bear, whose claws are short in comparison with those of the grizzly monster of the mountains.

For some moments our hunters hesitated under feelings of alarm; but, as the animal that had made the tracks was not in sight, their fears gradually subsided to some extent, and they began to consider what was best to be done. Should they go up the ravine, and endeavour to reach the summit? This would only be carrying out their original intention, and they would have started upward without hesitation, had they not discovered the bear-tracks. Seeing these, however, had put a new aspect on the matter. If there were grizzly bears in the neighbourhood—and this seemed very certain—the ravine was the most likely place to find them in. Its thick underwood, with the numerous crevices that, like caverns, appeared among the rocks on each side, were just such places as grizzly bears delight in. Their lair might be in this very ravine, and it would be a dangerous business to stumble upon it in passing up. But our young hunters were full of courage. They had a keen desire to ascend the butte—partly out of curiosity, and partly to get a shot at the big-horns—and this desire triumphed over prudence. They resolved to carry through what they had begun; and at length commenced to ascend, Basil taking the lead.

It was severe climbing withal; and now and again they had to pull themselves up by laying hold of branches and roots. They noticed that there was a trail, which they followed upward. No doubt the big-horns, or some other animals, had made this trail as they passed up and down—though it was only distinguishable by a slight discoloration upon the rocks, and by the earth being packed firmer in some places, as if by hoofs or feet. A little better than half-way up the boys observed a fissure, like the entrance of a cave, on one side of the ravine and close to the trail. Around this the earthy colour of the rocks, the absence of herbage, and the paddled appearance of the soil, suggested the idea that some animal made its den there. They passed it in silence, climbing as quickly as the nature of the ground would allow them, and looking backwards with fear. In a few minutes they had reached the escarpment of the butte; and, raising themselves by their hands they peeped over, and at once obtained a view of its whole table-like summit.

It was, as they had conjectured, perfectly level upon the top, with an area-surface of about twenty or thirty acres. Pine-trees grew thinly over it, with here and there a bush or two of acacia, the species known as “mezquite.” There was plenty of grass among the trees, and large tussocks of “bunch grass” mingling with cactus and aloe plants, formed a species of undergrowth. This, however, was only at two or three spots, as for the most part the surface was open, and could be seen at a single view. The hunters had hardly elevated their heads above the cliff, when the herd of big-horns became visible. They were at the moment near the western extremity of the table; and, to the astonishment of all, they appeared leaping over the ground as if they were mad! They were not attempting to escape; for they had not as yet noticed the boys, who, on getting above, had crept cautiously behind some bushes. On the contrary, the animals were skipping about in different directions at the same time, and bounding high into the air. After a moment it was observed that only those with the large horns were taking part in this exercise, while the others were browsing quietly near them. It was soon evident what the males were about. They were engaged in a fierce conflict; and their angry snorts, with the loud cracking of their horns, told that they were in terrible earnest. Now they backed from each other—as rams usually do—and anon they would dash forward until their heads met with a crash, as though the skulls of both had been splintered by the concussion. Sometimes two fought by themselves, and at other times three or four of them would come together, as if it mattered little which was the antagonist. They all appeared to be equally the enemies of one another. Strange to say, the ewes did not seem to trouble themselves about the matter. Most of these were feeding quietly, or if at times they looked up towards their belligerent lords, it was with an air of nonchalance and indifference, as if they cared nothing at all about the result.

Our hunters felt confident that they had the whole flock in a trap. They had only to guard the pass by which they themselves had come up, and then hunt the big-horns over the table at their leisure. It was agreed, therefore, that Lucien with Marengo should remain there, while Basil and François stole up for a first shot. They lost no time in putting this plan into execution. They perceived that the fight completely occupied the attention of the animals; and, taking advantage of this, Basil and François crept over the ground—sheltering themselves, as well as they could—until they had got within easy range. Both arrived together behind a little clump of acacias; and, by a signal from Basil, they raised themselves together to take aim. As they did so, they saw one of the rams, who had been backing himself for a rush, suddenly disappear over the edge of the cliff! They thought he had tumbled over—as his legs were the last of him they had seen—but they had no time to speculate upon the matter, as both pulled trigger at the moment. Two of the animals were laid prostrate by their fire; while the rest bounded off, ran out to a point of the table, and there halted.