Another method the Indians have of hunting the buffalo, is not unlike the last, but is still more fearful to witness.
Most of the region where the buffaloes range consists of high upland prairies, such as in Asia are called “steppes,” and in Mexico and South America “mesas,” or “table-lands.” Such plains are elevated from three to six thousand feet above the level of the sea. In many places on these table-lands there are deep rifts called “cañons,” or more properly “barrancas,” that have probably been formed by running water during rain-storms. These are often dry, and look like vast fissures opening down into the earth—often for a thousand feet or more—and extending away for scores of miles across the prairie. Sometimes two of them intersect each other, forming a triangular space or peninsula between; and the traveller on reaching this point is obliged to turn back, as he finds himself almost encircled by precipices yawning downward into the earth. Whenever the Indians get a herd of buffaloes near one of these cañons, they surround them on three sides, and guide them towards the precipice; and when they are near enough, gallop forward with wild shouts, causing the buffaloes to dash madly and blindly over. A whole herd will sometimes leap a precipice in this way—those in the front being forced over by the others, and, these in turn pressed, either to take the leap or be thrust by the spears of the pursuing horsemen. Sometimes when the Indians are not insufficient numbers to make a “surround” of buffalo, they collect buffalo chips, and build them in little piles so as to represent men. These piles are placed in two rows, gradually converging towards each other, and leading to one of the aforementioned bluffs. Between these two rows they drive the buffaloes, that, mistaking the piles of their own “chips” for Indians, are guided onwards to the edge of the precipice, when the hunters make their noisy rush, and force them over.
There are other methods of buffalo-hunting, such as pursuing them in the snow, when the hunters in their snow-shoes easily overtake and slaughter them. Some Mexican buffalo-hunters (in the southern prairies called “ciboleros”) capture the buffalo with the lasso; but this method is not often practised, except when they wish to catch the young calves alive for the purpose of raising them.
Now, all these methods were familiar to our three young hunters—that is, familiar from descriptions—as they had often heard about them from old trappers who came down among the settlements of Louisiana, and who sometimes spent the night under their father’s roof—for the Colonel liked very much to entertain these old trappers, and get a talk out of them. It was from this source then, that François derived his ideas of buffalo-hunting, which led him in the pride of his knowledge to exclaim, “Run them, of course.”
Basil and Lucien took a little time to consider it, all the while keeping their eyes fixed upon the three buffaloes. There was just one a-piece, which they could separate, and run down—they were far from any cover, and it might therefore be difficult to “approach” them—moreover the horses were fresh, for the day before had been Sunday, and our adventurers had always made it a rule to lie by on that day, to rest both themselves and their animals. This they did in accordance with a command given to them by their father at starting. All things considered, then, “running” was the best plan, and it was the one they resolved to adopt.
Jeanette was tied to a tree, and left behind with her packs, that had not yet been taken off. Marengo, of course, was taken along with them, as he might prove useful in pulling down one of the old bulls if wounded. Everything that might encumber the hunters was left with Jeanette; and all three rode out upon the prairie, and made direct for the animals. It was agreed that each should choose one of them, and then do his best with gun and pistols. François had put buck-shot into both barrels, and was full of confidence that he was about to “throw” his first buffalo.
As they drew nearer, a lustrous appearance upon the bodies of the strange animals attracted their attention. Were they buffaloes, after all?
The brothers rode quietly onward, observing them with attention. No, buffaloes they were not. The rough shaggy bodies of these would not shine so, for they glittered in the sun as they moved about. Buffaloes they could not be.
“That they are not,” said Lucien, after a deliberate look through his fingers.
“What are they then?” inquired François.