The Boy Hunters

by Mayne Reid

With these considerations passing through the minds of our hungry hunters, it is easy to guess the result of their deliberations. The sentence was at length pronounced—a unanimous one—Jeanette must die!

Poor old Jeanette! She little knew what they were talking about. She little thought that her days were about being numbered—that the time was nigh when she should carry a pack no more. She little expected that she was about to kick up her heels upon the prairie for the last time—that in a few hours her life-blood would be let forth—and her old ribs be roasting and sputtering over a camp-fire!

Yes, it was decreed that Jeanette should die! but when and where this terrible tragedy was to take place, was not yet determined upon. At their first halting-place, of course; but where was that to be? for, after having resolved upon the death of Jeanette, they travelled on for miles without arriving at any place where it would be possible to halt for the night! No water appeared, and without water they could not with safety encamp. Early in the afternoon they had entered upon a strange tract, over which the road of the buffaloes led them. It was a part of the prairie—a series of low hills composed of pure gypsum. These extended around them, as far as our travellers could see, presenting on all sides a picture of alabaster whiteness. Neither plant, nor tree, nor any sign of vegetable life relieved the monotonous uniformity of the landscape. Turn to what side they might, their eyes were met by the lime-like surface of hill and dale, dazzling the sight with its milky whiteness. The sun, reflected upward, pierced their bodies, and parched them with thirst. They breathed a hot atmosphere filled with gypsum dust, that by the trampling of the buffalo herd had been reduced to an impalpable powder, and floated about suspended in the air. This added to the agony of their thirst; and it was difficult for them to tell whether they suffered most from the want of food, or the want of water!

How far might this singular tract extend? They could form no conjecture as to the distance. Lucien had heard that such formations sometimes stretched for many miles. If so, they might never be able to cross it—thirsty and exhausted as both they and the animals were—for, eager to come up with the buffalo, they had rested but very little during the previous days. They began to labour under serious apprehensions. The appetite of thirst became stronger than that of hunger—its cravings more difficult to be endured.

Guided by the buffalo-tracks, they rode gloomily on, in the midst of a white cloud that enveloped them throughout all that fearful journey. They had no difficulty in following the trail. The heavy dust showed where the drove had passed; and every here and there great circular hollows showed where the buffaloes had “wallowed.” The hope that these animals, guided by their usual instincts, had gone in the direction of water, to some degree sustained our travellers in their onward struggle.

The shades of evening were closing over the earth, and the alabaster hills were assuming an ashy blue colour, when the little cavalcade emerged from the dusty ravines of gypsum, and once more trod the green prairie. The country before them was still rolling, but they kept on along the well marked trail—their animals stepping more freely, as if inspired with new hope at the change which had taken place upon the surface. There was something in the appearance of the landscape ahead that led to the belief that water was not far distant; and, sure enough, it was not; for, on mounting the crest of a prairie-swell, over which ran the buffalo-trail, a small rivulet was espied in the glen below. At the sight, Jeanette, as well as the three horses, pricked up their ears; and, making an effort to trot, were soon at the bottom of the hill, and up to their knees in the water.

It was fortunate for them that it proved a freshwater stream. Had it been a salt one—and such are very common in the neighbourhood of these gypsum formations—they could never have gone farther. They would all have perished upon its banks.

But it was fresh water—cool and fresh—and our travellers first drank of it, and then bathed themselves in its flood, until they had washed their bodies free from the annoying gypsum dust. After this they set about making some arrangements for their night bivouac.

The copious draughts of water, which all of them had taken, in some measure relieved them from the painful sensations of hunger they had experienced; and they began to consider whether they might not be able to give Jeanette a respite—at least until the morning. While deliberating upon this, they noticed that Marengo had strayed away from them. They looked around, wondering what had become of him, or where he could have gone. They espied the hound at some distance up the stream, and apparently engaged with some object upon the bank. They all ran towards him. On arriving near the spot, they perceived that it was the skeleton of a large buffalo with which the dog was engaged. The poor brute, hungry as he was, could do but little else than lick it; for the wolves had not left as much meat upon it as would have filled the smallest of his teeth! Even the pieces of torn skin that lay around had been chewed dry by these ravenous animals; and the bones appeared as free from flesh as if they had been scraped by a knife. Had an anatomist been ordered to prepare the skeleton for a museum, he could not have cleaned it more effectually.

It was not very cheering to contemplate this useless skeleton; and the boys were about returning to their camping-place, when the idea occurred to Lucien that the bones might, at least, yield a soup. He, of course, communicated this idea to the others, and it was at once agreed that they should boil them and try. It was quite a happy thought. No doubt the bones, which were fresh, and not yet dry, would make an excellent soup; and all three at once set about preparing to cook it. François gathered sage-bushes to kindle a fire with, while Basil got hold of Lucien’s little hatchet, and set to work to separate the ribs and joints of the skeleton. Lucien, seeing that there were several kinds of plants growing on the margin of the rivulet, went down to examine them—in hopes that he might find the wild onion or the prairie-turnip among them, or perhaps some other root or vegetable that might help to enrich their pottage.