The Boy Hunters

by Mayne Reid

Eagerly looking before them, anxiously scanning the valleys or troughs of the prairie as they surmounted each new swell, they rode onward full of hope that they would soon come in sight of the buffaloes. But they were not prepared for the sight was so soon to greet their eyes—a sight which one would have supposed would have filled them with joy, but which, on the contrary, had the effect of inspiring them with a feeling akin to terror.

They had just climbed one of the ridges that gave them a view of the valley beyond. It was a small deep valley, of nearly a circular form, and covered with a green turf. Near one side of it was a spring—the waters of which issuing forth ran nearly around the circumference of the valley, and then escaped through one of the troughs of the prairie. The course of this rivulet could be traced by the low trees—cotton-woods and willows—that fringed its banks; so that the central part of the valley presented the appearance of a small circular meadow almost surrounded by a grove.

It was in this meadow that a spectacle was offered to the eyes of our adventurers, which caused them to rein suddenly up, and sit gazing down upon it with singular emotions. The spectacle was that of a number of animals engaged in what appeared to be a mixed and terrible combat! There was not over a dozen of them in all, but they were large animals, of fierce aspect and furious bearing; and so desperately were they assailing one another, that the green turf around them was torn and furrowed by their hoofs. It was in the middle of the meadow that this indiscriminate contest was carried on—in the open ground—and a finer spot for such an exhibition they could hardly have chosen, had they wished to accommodate a large number of spectators. The valley itself, with the ridges that encircled it, was not unlike one of the great Spanish amphitheatres, where bull-fights are carried on; while the smooth, level surface of the meadow represented the arena. The combatants, however, were engaged in no mock encounter to gratify the curiosity of an idle crowd; nor did they apprehend that there were spectators present.

The contest in which they were engaged was a real fight; and their angry roars, their hurried rushing backwards and forwards, and the loud cracking of their skulls as they came together, proved them to be in earnest.

That the animals were buffaloes was apparent at first sight. Their great bulk, the lion-like form of their bodies, but, above all, their bellowing, that resembled the “routing” of enraged bulls, convinced our young hunters that they could be no other than buffaloes—and buffaloes they were—a “gang” of old buffalo bulls engaged in one of their terrible tournaments.

I have said that our hunters, on first seeing them, were influenced by feelings of terror. But why so? What was there in the appearance of a herd of buffaloes to frighten them, since that was the very thing they had so long been in search of? Was it the angry attitudes of the animals, or their loud roaring? Nothing of the sort? No. That was not what had inspired them with fear, or, as I should rather term it, with awe. No. The reason was very different indeed. It was not because they were buffaloes, or because they were engaged in a fierce battle,—it was because they were white buffaloes!

You will again ask, why this should have been a cause of terror. Was a white buffalo not the very object of the expedition? Should the sight of one not have produced joy rather than fear? So the sight of one would; but it was the sight of so many—the mysterious spectacle of nearly a dozen of these animals together—a thing unparalleled, unheard of—it was this that inspired our adventurers with awe.

It was some time before any of the three could find words to express their astonishment. They sat in silence, gazing down into the valley. They could hardly believe the evidence of their eyes. With the palms of their hands they shaded them from the sun, and gazed still a longer while. They saw, at length, there could be no deception. Buffaloes the animals were, and white ones too!

They were not all of an uniform white, though most of them were. A few were darker about the heads and legs, with broad white flakes upon their sides, giving them a mottled appearance. The general colour, however, was whitish; and, strange to say, there was not a black or brown one in the herd!—not one of the well-known colour that buffaloes usually are! It was this that rendered them such a mysterious band in the eyes of our adventurers.

The latter, however, soon got over their surprise. There could be no doubt that they had fallen in with a herd of white buffaloes. Perhaps, thought they, there is, after all, nothing so strange in such a number of them being together. Perhaps the individuals of that colour, so rarely met with, usually associate together in this way, and keep apart from the black ones. What better fortune could have happened for them then? If they could only succeed in killing one of these creatures, it would be all that they could wish for, and all they wanted. The object of their expedition would then be accomplished; and nothing would remain but to turn their horses’ heads, and take the shortest route homeward. With these ideas passing through their minds, they at once set about considering how they might kill or capture one or more of the herd.