The Boy Hunters

by Mayne Reid

After a spell of watching, that lasted nearly three hours, he perceived the first streaks of dawn in the east.

“By the time we get breakfast cooked,” thought Basil, “there will be light enough to follow the trail; so I’ll rouse Frank and Luce; and, by way of a change, I’ll give them a reveille with my rifle. Let me pick out the largest of these sneaking wolves; I’ll put one of them at least from keeping anybody awake hereafter, I guess.”

Basil, as he reflected thus, raised himself upon his knees, and looked around to select a victim. Strange to say, the wolves, as if they had guessed his intention, had scattered away from the neighbourhood of the fire, though several could still be seen stealing along the edge of the willows. Basil chose one of these which appeared in the dim light to be a large grey one; and, levelling his piece, fired at it. As he was not very anxious whether he killed the animal or not, he fired carelessly.

Following the shot there was heard a loud scream, that was answered by fifty others, from all sides of the valley. It awoke the sleeping hunters; who, along with Basil, sprang to their feet. It was not the scream of wolves they had heard, but a cry of far different import. It was the yell of human voices—the war-cry of Indians!

All three stood speechless with terror; but, even could they have spoken, there was scarcely time allowed them to have uttered a word; for, almost simultaneous with the yells, there was a rushing forward of dark forms; and the next moment fifty tall savages were around them. Basil, who had been farthest out from the fire, was knocked senseless by a blow; while Lucien and François, who did not think of using their guns, were seized by the brawny arms of the Indians and held fast. It was fortunate for them that they did not make any resistance, else the savages would have killed all three upon the spot. As it was, even, they seemed for a while undetermined whether to do so or not—as it was one of their number that Basil had mistaken for a wolf, and the shot had wounded the Indian, which, of course, exasperated them greatly. Perceiving, however, the small force of the party, and that the boys made no farther resistance, they gave up the idea of killing them on the spot, but bound the arms of all three behind their backs; and then, after having mounted them on their horses, and gathered up their guns and blankets, led them out of the valley. At a short distance off, the Indians reached a spot where their own horses were tied. Here they halted for a moment—until each had got into his saddle—and then the whole party, prisoners and all, set off at a brisk trot over the prairie.

In about an hour they arrived at a large encampment upon the bank of a broad shallow river. There were nearly an hundred lodges standing upon the plain; and the ground was littered with buffalo-horns and hides, while vast quantities of the flesh of these animals were hanging from poles in front of every lodge. There were fires, and camp-kettles, and dogs, and Indian ponies, and women, and children—all mixed up together, or moving to and fro among the tents.

In front of the encampment, and near the bank of the stream, the prisoners were thrown upon the ground. Their captors left them; but they were at once surrounded by a crowd of yelling squaws and children. These at first regarded them only with curiosity; but as soon as they heard that one of the Indians had been wounded, they uttered the most hideous and piercing cries, and approached their captives with threatening looks and gestures. They commenced their cowardly torture by pulling the ears and hair of the boys, and sticking arrow-points into their arms and shoulders; and then, by way of having a little fun, several of the squaws seized hold of, and dragged the three prisoners out into the middle of the stream. Here they ducked them, keeping their heads for a long time under water, all the while yelling and laughing like so many demons. The poor captives for a while believed that these women were about to drown them, and, tied as they were, they could make no effort to save themselves. This, however, was not the intention of the squaws; they were only disposed to have as much fun out of them as possible. After they had got tired of this amusement, they dragged the boys back again to the bank, and flung them dripping upon the grass.

But what was Basil doing all this time? Did he not possess a charm about him, that would have put an end to all this torturing treatment, and have made the Indians friends instead of such cruel enemies? Ah! poor Basil! he had suffered worse than any of the three. I shall tell you how it was with him.

At their capture Basil had been stunned by the blow of a tomahawk. He had been knocked quite senseless; and although he recovered himself so far as to be able to ride to the Indian camp, it was not until after the ducking he received in the cold river that he fairly came to himself. As soon as he did so, he bethought himself of that which he carried under the breast of his hunting-shirt. In fact, his brothers had been reminding him of it every moment, anxiously entreating him to make use of a secret of which neither of them fully understood the nature. But, up to this time, Basil, bewildered by the blow, was scarcely conscious of what he did. He had now recovered himself, and was making every effort to get at the string, and draw the embroidered pouch from his breast; but his hands were tied behind him, and he could not use them! He essayed to reach it with his mouth, but all his efforts were in vain. He then turned towards his brothers, so that they might stretch forward and draw out the string with their teeth. They were no longer near him! The squaws had dragged them to some distance off; and, like himself, their ankles were tied together, and they could not move from the spot where they had been placed.

Basil saw all this with a feeling of consternation; for, judging from the cruel treatment to which they had been submitted, and from the excited and exasperated manner of the Indians, he began to fear the worst, and to doubt whether the charm he carried might, after all, avail them. He used every effort to give it a trial. Failing to reach it, he made signs to the squaws around him, nodding with his head, and casting his eyes downward towards his breast. These, however, did not understand his meaning; and only laughed at what appeared to them a somewhat comic pantomime.