Tracks of a Rolling Stone Part 12

To look at, William Nelson might have sat for the portrait of Leatherstocking. He was a tall gaunt man who had spent his youth bringing rafts of timber down the Wabash river, from Fort Wayne to Maumee, in Ohio. For the last six years (he was three-and-thirty) he had been trapping musk rats and beaver, and dealing in pelts generally. At the time of our meeting he was engaged to a Miss Mary something-the daughter of an English immigrant, who would not consent to the marriage until William was better off. He was now bound for California, where he hoped to make the required fortune. The poor fellow was very sentimental about his Mary; but, despite his weatherbeaten face, hardy-looking frame, and his 'longue carabine,' he was scarcely the hero which, no doubt, Miss Mary took him for.

Yes, the novelty soon wore off. We had necessaries enough to last to California. We also had enough unnecessaries to bring us to grief in a couple of weeks. Our wagons were loaded to the roof. And seeing there was no road nor so much as a track, that there were frequent swamps and small rivers to be crossed, that our Comanche mules were wilder than the Indians who had owned them, it may easily be believed that our rate of progress did not average more than six or seven miles a day; sometimes it took from dawn to dusk to cross a stream by ferrying our packages, and emptied wagons, on such rafts as could be extemporised. Before the end of a fortnight, both wagons were shattered, wheels smashed, and axles irreparable. The men, who were as refractory as the other animals, helped themselves to provisions, tobacco and whisky, at their own sweet will, and treated our remonstrances with resentment and contempt.

Heroic measures were exigent. The wagons were broken up and converted into pack saddles. Both tents, ma.s.ses of provisions, 100 lbs. of lead for bullets, kegs of powder, warm clothing, mackintoshes, waterproof sheeting, tarpaulins, medicine chest, and bags of sugar, were flung aside to waste their sweetness on the desert soil. Not one of us had ever packed a saddle before; and certainly not one of the mules had ever carried, or to all appearances, ever meant to carry, a pack. It was a fight between man and beast every day-twice a day indeed, for we halted to rest and feed, and had to unpack and repack our remaining impedimenta in payment for the indulgence.

Let me cite a page from my diary. It is a fair specimen of scores of similar entries.

'_June_ 24_th_.-My morning watch. Up at 1 A.M. Roused the men at 3.30.

Off at 7.30. Rained hard all day. Packs slipped or kicked off eighteen times before halt. Men grumbling. Nelson and Jim both too ill to work.

When adjusting pack, Nelson and Louis had a desperate quarrel. Nelson drew his knife and nearly stabbed Louis. I s.n.a.t.c.hed a pistol out of my holster, and threatened to shoot Nelson unless he shut up. Fred, of course, laughed obstreperously at the notion of my committing murder, which spoilt the dramatic effect.

'Oh! these devils of mules! After repacking, they rolled, they kicked and bucked, they screamed and bit, as though we were all in h.e.l.l, and didn't know it. It took four men to pack each one; and the moment their heads were loosed, away they went into the river, over the hills, and across country as hard as they could lay legs to ground. It was a cheerful sight!-the flour and biscuit stuff swimming about in the stream, the hams in a ditch full of mud, the trailed pots and pans b.u.mping and rattling on the ground until they were as shapeless as old wide-awakes.

And, worst of all, the pack-saddles, which had delayed us a week to make-nothing now but a bundle of splinters.

'25_th_.-What a night! A fearful storm broke over us. All round was like a lake. Fred and I sat, back to back, perched on a flour bag till daylight, with no covering but our shooting jackets, our feet in a pool, and bodies streaming like cascades. Repeated lightning seemed to strike the ground within a few yards of us. The animals, wild with terror, stampeded in all directions. In the morning, lo and behold! Samson on his back in the water, insensibly drunk. At first I thought he was dead; but he was only dead drunk. We can't move till he can, unless we bequeath him to the wolves, which are plentiful. This is the third time he has served us the same trick. I took the liberty to ram my heel through the whisky keg (we have kept a small one for emergencies) and put it empty under his head for a pillow.'

There were plenty of days and nights to match these, but there were worse in store for us.

One evening, travelling along the North Platte river, before reaching Laramie, we overtook a Mormon family on their way to Salt Lake city.

They had a light covered wagon with hardly anything in it but a small supply of flour and bacon. It was drawn by four oxen and two cows. Four milch cows were driven. The man's name was Blazzard-a Yorks.h.i.+reman from the Wolds, whose speech was that of Learoyd. He had only his wife and a very pretty daughter of sixteen or seventeen with him. We asked him how he became a Mormon. He answered: 'From conviction,' and entreated us to be baptized in the true faith at his hands. The offer was tempting, for the pretty little milkmaid might have become one of one's wives on the spot. In truth the sweet nymph urged conversion more persuasively than her papa-though with what views who shall say? The old farmer's acquaintance with the Bible was remarkable. He quoted it at every sentence, and was eloquent upon the subject of the meaning and the origin of the word 'Bible.' He a.s.sured us the name was given to the Holy Book from the circ.u.mstance of its contents having pa.s.sed a synod of prophets, just as an Act of Parliament pa.s.ses the House of Commons-_by Bill_.

Hence its t.i.tle. It was this historical fact that guaranteed the authenticity of the sacred volume. There are various reasons for believing-this is one of them.

The next day, being Sunday, was spent in sleep. In the afternoon I helped the Yorks.h.i.+re la.s.sie to herd her cattle, which had strayed a long distance amongst the rank herbage by the banks of the Platte. The heat was intense, well over 120 in the sun; and the mosquitos rose in clouds at every step in the wet gra.s.s. It was an easy job for me, on my little grey, to gallop after the cows and drive them home, (it would have been a wearisome one for her,) and she was very grateful, and played Dorothea to my Hermann. None of our party wore any upper clothing except a flannel s.h.i.+rt; I had cut off the sleeves of mine at the elbow. This was better for rough work, but the broiling sun had raised big blisters on my arms and throat which were very painful. When we got back to camp, Dorothea laved the burns for me with cool milk. Ah! she was very pretty; and, what 'blackguard' Heine, as Carlyle dubs him, would have called 'nave schmutzig.' When we parted next morning I thought with a sigh that before the autumn was over, she would be in the seraglio of Mr. Brigham Young; who, Artemus Ward used to say, was 'the most married man he ever knew.'

CHAPTER XXI

SPORT had been the final cause of my trip to America-sport and the love of adventure. As the bison-buffalo, as they are called-are now extinct, except in preserved districts, a few words about them as they then were may interest game hunters of the present day.

No description could convey an adequate conception of the numbers in which they congregated. The admirable ill.u.s.trations in Catlin's great work on the North American Indians, afford the best idea to those who have never seen the wonderful sight itself. The districts they frequented were vast sandy uplands spa.r.s.ely covered with the tufty buffalo or gramma gra.s.s. These regions were always within reach of the water-courses; to which morning and evening the herds descended by paths, after the manner of sheep or cattle in a pasture. Never shall I forget the first time I witnessed the extraordinary event of the evening drink.

Seeing the black ma.s.ses galloping down towards the river, by the banks of which our party were travelling, we halted some hundred yards short of the tracks. To have been caught amongst the animals would have been destruction; for, do what they would to get out of one's way, the weight of the thousands pus.h.i.+ng on would have crushed anything that impeded them. On the occasion I refer to we approached to within safe distance, and fired into them till the ammunition in our pouches was expended.

As examples of our sporting exploits, three days taken almost at random will suffice. The season was so far advanced that, unless we were to winter at Fort Laramie, it was necessary to keep going. It was therefore agreed that whoever left the line of march-that is, the vicinity of the North Platte-for the purpose of hunting should take his chance of catching up the rest of the party, who were to push on as speedily as possible. On two of the days which I am about to record this rule nearly brought me into trouble. I quote from my journal:

'Left camp to hunt by self. Got a shot at some deer lying in long gra.s.s on banks of a stream. While stalking, I could hardly see or breathe for mosquitos; they were in my eyes, nose, and mouth. Steady aim was impossible; and, to my disgust, I missed the easiest of shots. The neck and flanks of my little grey are as red as if painted. He is weak from loss of blood. Fred's head is now so swollen he cannot wear his hard hat; his eyes are bunged up, and his face is comic to look at. Several deer and antelopes; but ground too level, and game too wild to let one near. Hardly caring what direction I took, followed outskirts of large wood, four or five miles away from the river. Saw a good many summer lodges; but knew, by the quant.i.ty of game, that the Indians had deserted them. In the afternoon came suddenly upon deer; and singling out one of the youngest fawns, tried to run it down. The country being very rough, I found it hard work to keep between it and the wood. First, my hat blew off; then a pistol jumped out of the holster; but I was too near to give up,-meaning to return for these things afterwards. Two or three times I ran right over the fawn, which bleated in the most piteous manner, but always escaped the death-blow from the grey's hoofs. By degrees we edged nearer to the thicket, when the fawn darted down the side of a bluff, and was lost in the long gra.s.s and brushwood, I followed at full speed; but, unable to arrest the impetus of the horse, we dashed headlong into the thick scrub, and were both thrown with violence to the ground. I was none the worse; but the poor beast had badly hurt his shoulder, and for the time was dead lame.

'For an hour at least I hunted, for my pistol. It was much more to me than my hat. It was a huge horse pistol, that threw an ounce ball of exactly the calibre of my double rifle. I had shot several buffaloes with it, by riding close to them in a chase; and when in danger of Indians I loaded it with slugs. At last I found it. It was getting late; and I didn't rightly know where I was. I made for the low country.

But as we camped last night at least two miles from the river, on account of the swamps, the difficulty was to find the tracks. The poor little grey and I hunted for it in vain. The wet ground was too wet, the dry ground too hard, to show the tracks in the now imperfect light.

'The situation was a disagreeable one: it might be two or three days before I again fell in with my friends. I had not touched food since the early morning, and was rather done. To return to the high ground was to give up for the night; but that meant another day behind the cavalcade, with diminished chance of overtaking it. Through the dusk I saw what I fancied was something moving on a mound ahead of me which arose out of the surrounding swamp. I spurred on, but only to find the putrid carcase of a buffalo, with a wolf supping on it. The brute was gorged, and looked as sleek as "die schone Frau Giermund"; but, unlike Isegrim's spouse, she was free to escape, for she wasn't worth a bullet. I was so famished, that I examined the carcase with the hope of finding a cut that would last for a day or two; my nose wouldn't have it. I plodded on, the water up to the saddle-girths. The mosquitos swarmed in millions, and the poor little grey could hardly get one leg before the other. I, too, was so feverish that, ignorant of bacteria, I filled my round hat with the filthy stagnant water, and drank it at a draught.

'At last I made for higher ground. It was too dark to hunt for tracks, so I began to look out for a level bed. Suddenly my beast, who jogged along with his nose to the ground, gave a loud neigh. We had struck the trail. I threw the reins on his neck, and left matters to his superior instincts. In less than half an hour the joyful light of a camp fire gladdened my eyes. Fred told me he had halted as soon as he was able, not on my account only, but because he, too, had had a severe fall, and was suffering great pain from a bruised knee.'

Here is an ordinary example of buffalo shooting:

'_July_ 2_nd_.-Fresh meat much wanted. With Jim the half-breed to the hills. No sooner on high ground than we sighted game. As far as eye could reach, right away to the horizon, the plain was black with buffaloes, a truly astonis.h.i.+ng sight. Jim was used to it. I stopped to spy them with amazement. The nearest were not more than half a mile off, so we picketed our horses under the sky line; and choosing the hollows, walked on till crawling became expedient. As is their wont, the outsiders were posted on bluffs or knolls in a commanding position; these were old bulls. To my inexperience, our chance of getting a shot seemed small; for we had to cross the dipping ground under the brow whereon the sentinels were lying. Three extra difficulties beset us-the prairie dogs (a marmot, so called from its dog-like bark when disturbed) were all round us, and bolted into their holes like rabbits directly they saw us coming; two big grey wolves, the regular camp followers of a herd, were prowling about in a direct line between us and the bulls; lastly, the cows, though up and feeding, were inconveniently out of reach. (The meat of the young cow is much preferred to that of the bull.) Jim, however, was confident. I followed my leader to a wink. The only instruction I didn't like when we started crawling on the hot sand was "Look out for rattlesnakes."

'The wolves stopped, examined us suspiciously, then quietly trotted off.

What with this and the alarm of the prairie dogs, an old bull, a patriarch of the tribe, jumped up and walked with majestic paces to the top of the knoll. We lay flat on our faces, till he, satisfied with the result of his scrutiny, resumed his rec.u.mbent posture; but with his head turned straight towards us. Jim, to my surprise, stealthily crawled on.

In another minute or two we had gained a point whence we could see through the gra.s.s without being seen. Here we rested to recover breath.

Meanwhile, three or four young cows fed to within sixty or seventy yards of us. Unluckily we both selected the same animal, and both fired at the same moment. Off went the lot helter skelter, all save the old bull, who roared out his rage and trotted up close to our hiding place.

'"Look out for a bolt," whispered Jim, "but don't show yourself nohow till I tell you."

'For a minute or two the suspense was exciting. One hardly dared to breathe. But his majesty saw us not, and turned again to his wives. We instantly reloaded; and the startled herd, which had only moved a few yards, gave us the chance of a second shot. The first cow had fallen dead almost where she stood. The second we found at the foot of the hill, also with two bullet wounds behind the shoulder. The tongues, humps, and tender loins, with some other choice morsels, were soon cut off and packed, and we returned to camp with a grand supply of beef for Jacob's larder.

CHAPTER XXII

AT the risk of being tedious, I will tell of one more day's buffalo hunting, to show the vicissitudes of this kind of sport. Before doing so we will glance at another important feature of prairie life, a camp of Sioux Indians.

One evening, after halting on the banks of the Platte, we heard distant sounds of tomtoms on the other side of the river. Jim, the half-breed, and Louis differed as to the tribe, and hence the friendliness or hostility, of our neighbours. Louis advised saddling up and putting the night between us; he regaled us to boot with a few blood-curdling tales of Indian tortures, and of _nous autres en haut_. Jim treated these with scorn, and declared he knew by the 'tunes' (!) that the pow-wow was Sioux. Just now, he a.s.serted, the Sioux were friendly, and this 'village' was on its way to Fort Laramie to barter 'robes' (buffalo skins) for blankets and ammunition. He was quite willing to go over and talk to them if we had no objection.

Fred, ever ready for adventure, would have joined him in a minute; but the river, which was running strong, was full of nasty currents, and his injured knee disabled him from swimming. No one else seemed tempted; so, following Jim's example, I stripped to my flannel s.h.i.+rt and moccasins, and crossed the river, which was easier to get into than out of, and soon reached the 'village.' Jim was right,-they were Sioux, and friendly.

They offered us a pipe of kinik (the dried bark of the red willow), and jabbered away with their kinsman, who seemed almost more at home with them than with us.

Seeing one of their 'braves' with three fresh scalps at his belt, I asked for the history of them. In Sioux gutturals the story was a long one.

Jim's translation amounted to this: The scalps were 'lifted' from two Crows and a Ponkaw. The Crows, it appeared, were the Sioux' natural enemies 'anyhow,' for they occasionally hunted on each other's ranges.

But the Ponkaw, whom he would not otherwise have injured, was casually met by him on a horse which the Sioux recognised for a white man's. Upon being questioned how he came by it, the Ponkaw simply replied that it was his own. Whereupon the Sioux called him a liar; and proved it by sending an arrow through his body.

I didn't quite see it. But then, strictly speaking, I am no collector of scalps. To preserve my own, I kept the hair on it as short as a tooth-brush.

Before we left, our hosts fed us on raw buffalo meat. This, cut in slices, and dried crisp in the sun, is excellent. Their lodges were very comfortable, most of them large enough to hold a dozen people. The ground inside was covered with buffalo robes; and the sewn skins, spread tight upon the converging poles, formed a tent stout enough to defy all weathers. In winter the lodge can be entirely closed; and when a fire is kindled in the centre, the smoke escaping at a small hole where the poles join, the snugness is complete.

At the entrance of one of these lodges I watched a squaw and her child prepare a meal. When the fuel was collected, a fat puppy, playing with the child, was seized by the squaw, and knocked on the throat-not head-with a stick. The puppy was then returned, kicking, to the tender mercies of the infant; who exerted its small might to add to the animal's miseries, while the mother fed the fire and filled a kettle for the stew.

The puppy, much more alive than dead, was held by the hind leg over the flames as long as the squaw's fingers could stand them. She then let it fall on the embers, where it struggled and squealed horribly, and would have wriggled off, but for the little savage, who took good care to provide for the satisfactory singeing of its playmate.

Considering the length of its lineage, how remarkably hale and well preserved is our own barbarity!

We may now take our last look at the buffaloes, for we shall see them no more. Again I quote my journal:

'_July_ 5_th_.-Men sulky because they have nothing to eat but rancid ham, and biscuit dust which has been so often soaked that it is mouldy and sour. They are a dainty lot! Samson and I left camp early with the hopes of getting meat. While he was shooting prairie dogs his horse made off, and cost me nearly an hour's riding to catch. Then, accidentally letting go of my mustang, he too escaped; and I had to run him down with the other. Towards evening, spied a small band of buffaloes, which we approached by leading our horses up a hollow. They got our wind, however, and were gone before we were aware of it. They were all young, and so fast, it took a twenty minutes' gallop to come up with them.

Samson's horse put his foot in a hole, and the cropper they both got gave the band a long start, as it became a stern chase, and no heading off.

'At length I managed to separate one from the herd by firing my pistol into the "brown," and then devoted my efforts to him alone. Once or twice he turned and glared savagely through his mane. When quite isolated he pulled up short, so did I. We were about sixty yards apart.

I flung the reins upon the neck of the mustang, who was too blown to stir, and handling my rifle, waited for the bull to move so that I might see something more than the great s.h.a.ggy front, which screened his body.

But he stood his ground, tossing up the sand with his hoofs. Presently, instead of turning tail, he put his head down, and bellowing with rage, came at me as hard as he could tear. I had but a moment for decision,-to dig spurs into the mustang, or risk the shot. I chose the latter; paused till I was sure of his neck, and fired when he was almost under me. In an instant I was sent flying; and the mustang was on his back with all four legs in the air.

'The bull was probably as much astonished as we were. His charge had carried him about thirty yards, at most, beyond us. There he now stood; facing me, pawing the ground and snorting as before. Badly wounded I knew him to be,-that was the worst of it; especially as my rifle, with its remaining loaded barrel, lay right between us. To hesitate for a second only, was to lose the game. There was no time to think of bruises; I crawled, eyes on him, straight for my weapon: got it-it was already c.o.c.ked, and the stock unbroken-raised my knee for a rest. We were only twenty yards apart (the shot meant death for one of the two), and just catching a glimpse of his shoulder-blade, I pulled. I could hear the thud of the heavy bullet, and-what was sweeter music-the ugh! of the fatal groan. The beast dropped on his knees, and a gush of blood spurted from his nostrils.

'But the wild devil of a mustang? that was my first thought now.

Whenever one dismounted, it was necessary to loosen his long lariat, and let it trail on the ground. Without this there was no chance of catching him. I saw at once what had happened: by the greatest good fortune, at the last moment, he must have made an instinctive start, which probably saved his life, and mine too. The bull's horns had just missed his entrails and my leg,-we were broadside on to the charge,-and had caught him in the thigh, below the hip. There was a big hole, and he was bleeding plentifully. For all that, he wouldn't let me catch him. He could go faster on three legs than I on two.