The antelopes had all turned in the track of their leader, and were following him in the new direction, like soldiers marching in single file. They went slowly, with outstretched necks and eyes protruded, gazing steadfastly on the strange objects before them. When within a hundred yards or so of the wolves, the leader stopped, and sniffed the air. The others imitated him in every movement. The wind was blowing towards the wolves, therefore the antelopes, who possess the keenest scent, could benefit nothing from this. They moved forward again several paces, and again halted, and uttered their snorts as before, and then once more moved on. These manoeuvres lasted for some minutes; and it was evident that the spirits of fear and curiosity were struggling within the b.r.e.a.s.t.s of these creatures. At times the former seemed to have the mastery, for they would tremble, and start as if about to break off in flight. Curiosity would again prevail, and a fresh movement forward was the consequence.
In this way they advanced, until the headmost had got within a few paces of the wolves, who lay all the while as still as mice or as cats waiting for mice. Not any part of them was seen to move, except the long hair of their tails that waved slightly in the breeze; but this only excited the curiosity of the antelopes to a greater degree.
The leader of the herd seemed all at once to grow bolder. He was a stout old buck--what had _he_ to fear? Why should _he_ dread such creatures as these, without heads, or teeth, or claws, and evidently incapable of moving themselves? No doubt they were inanimate objects.
He would soon decide that question, by simply stepping up and laying his nose upon one of them.
He was instigated, moreover, by a species of pride or vanity. He wanted to show off his courage before his followers, who were mostly does; many of them his wives too--for the old antelopes are shocking polygamists.
It would never do to appear timid in the eyes of the fair does; and he was determined to cut a swagger. Under this impulse, he walked boldly up, until his sharp snout touched the hair of one of the wolves.
The latter, who had been all the time peeping from under his tail, waiting for just such an opportunity, now sprang to his feet, and launched himself upon the throat of the antelope. His comrades, uncoiling themselves at the same instant, followed his example; and the next moment the p.r.o.ng-horn was dragged to the ground, and worried by the whole pack!
The frightened herd wheeled in their track and scattered right and left.
Some ran in the direction of the hunters; but so swiftly did they bound past, that the shots of the latter, aimed in haste, whistled idly over the prairie. Not one of them appeared to have been touched; and, in a few seconds, not one of them was to be seen. They had all escaped, except their leader, who was by this time dying under the teeth of the wolves.
"Well, we shall have _him_ at all events," said Basil. "Load your guns, brothers! give the wolves time to kill him outright; we can easily run them off."
"Very kind of them," added Francois, "to procure us fresh venison for supper. Indeed we might not have had it but for their cunning. We have done them some service during our journey; it is almost time they should make us a return."
"We had better make haste, then," said Lucien, loading at the same time with his brothers; "the wolves appear to be very busy; they may tear our venison to pieces. See! what a scuffle!"
As Lucien said this, the eyes of all were turned upon the wolves. The latter were leaping about over the body of the antelope, now in a thick clump, now more scattered, but all the while apparently worrying the animal to death. Their jaws were already blood-stained, and their bushy tails swept about and above them in ceaseless motion. The hunters made all haste in reloading, lest, as Lucien had suggested, the wolves might spoil the venison. They were not more than a minute engaged in ramming down the bullets, and fixing the caps on the nipples of their guns.
When this was done, all three ran forward together--Marengo in the advance, with outstretched neck and open mouth, eager to do battle with the whole pack.
It was but three hundred yards to the spot where the wolves were; and when our hunters had got within range, all three stopped, levelled their pieces, and fired. The volley took effect. Two were seen kicking and sprawling over the gra.s.s, while the others, dropping their prey, scampered off over the prairie. The boys ran up. Marengo leaped upon one of the wounded wolves, while the other was despatched by the b.u.t.ts of their guns. But where was the antelope? There was no such animal to be seen; but, in its stead, half-a-dozen fragments of mangled skin, a horned head and shanks, with a clump of half-picked, ribs and joints!
And this was all that was left of the poor p.r.o.ng-horn--all that was left of that beautiful form that, only a few moments before, was bounding over the prairie in the full pride of health, strength, and swiftness!
The boys contemplated his remains with feelings of disappointment and chagrin; for, although there was still plenty of bear-meat, they had antic.i.p.ated supping upon fresh venison. But neither "haunch" nor "saddle" was left--nothing but torn and useless fragments--so, after sundry sharp e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.i.o.ns against the wolves, they left Marengo to make his best of the _debris_, and, walking back slowly to the camp, seated themselves once more upon the stones.
CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN.
DECOYING AN ANTELOPE.
They had not rested more than five minutes, when their attention was again attracted to the prairie. Another herd of antelopes! Strange to say, it was; and, like the former, these were making directly for the spring. The hunters knew they were not the same; for this herd was much larger, and there were several males in it, easily distinguishable by their forked horns.
The guns were again loaded, and Marengo was called up--lest he might frighten them off.
These, like the others, marched in order, in single file--led by a large buck. There appeared to be about thirty or more in this herd. They had, no doubt, been pasturing all day on some far plain, and were now on their way to the water, determined to have a good drink before going to rest for the night.
When they had arrived within four or five hundred yards of the spring, they turned slightly to the left. This brought them at once to the rivulet--where they entered, and having drunk, went out again, and commenced browsing along the bank. It was evident they did not intend coming any nearer to the b.u.t.te, or the grove of willows, where our hunters had concealed themselves. This was a disappointment. All three had once more set their minds upon an antelope supper; and now their chances of getting it seemed every moment growing less--as the animals, instead of coming nearer, were browsing away from them over the prairie.
There was no cover by which they might be approached. What, then, could the hunters do, but leave them to go as they had come?
But there was an expedient which suggested itself to the mind of Basil.
He had heard of it from old hunters; and the curious conduct of the first herd, so lately shown in regard to the wolves, recalled it to his remembrance. He resolved, therefore, to try this expedient, and secure an antelope if possible.
Cautioning his brothers to remain quiet, he took up one of the red blankets that lay near. He had already cut a long forked sapling, and sharpened it at one end with his knife. He now spread out the blanket, holding it up before him; and, with his rifle in one hand, and the sapling in the other, he pa.s.sed out of the willows into the open ground--keeping the blanket between him and the animals, so that his body was completely hidden from them. In this way he advanced a few paces, walking in a bent att.i.tude, until he had attracted the attention of the antelopes. He then stuck the sapling firmly in the ground, hung the blanket upon its forks, and knelt down behind it.
An object so odd-looking, both as regarded form and colour, at once excited the curiosity of the herd. They left off feeding, and commenced approaching it--halting at short intervals, and then continuing to advance. They did not move in single file--as the former herd had done--but first one, and then another of the bucks took the lead, each wishing to make a display of his courage. In a few minutes one of the largest was within range; when Basil, who was lying flat along the gra.s.s, took sight at the animal"s breast and fired.
The buck leaped up at the shot; but, to the great disappointment of the marksman, turned in his tracks, and fled along with the rest of the herd, all of which had bounded off on hearing the crack of the rifle.
Basil beheld this with some surprise. He had taken deliberate aim; and he knew that when he did so, it was seldom that his rifle failed him.
He had missed this time, however, as he thought, when he saw the antelope run off apparently unhurt; and, attributing his failure to the hurried manner in which he had loaded his piece, he took up the blanket, and turned with a mortified look towards his companions.
"Look yonder!" cried Francois, who still watched the retreating antelopes; "look at the wolves! Away they go after."
"Ha!" exclaimed Lucien, "you have wounded the buck, brother, else the wolves would never follow. See! they are running upon his track like hounds!"
Lucien was right. The animal was. .h.i.t, or the wolves would not have embarked in a chase so hopeless as the pursuit of a p.r.o.ng-horn; for, strange to say, these cunning creatures can tell when game has been wounded better than the hunters themselves, and very often pursue and run it down, when the latter believes it to have escaped! It was evident, therefore, that Basil had hit the animal--though not in a deadly part--and the wolves were now following with the hope of hunting it down.
A new idea came into Basil"s mind. He thought he might yet _be in at the death_; and with this idea he ran up to his horse, drew the picket-pin, and leaping upon his bare back, directed him after the chase. He was soon in full gallop over the prairie, keeping the wolves in sight as he went. He could see the antelope, he had fired at, some distance ahead of the wolves, but _far behind the rest of the herd_, and evidently running _heavily and with pain_.
It cost the young hunter a five-mile gallop; and, at the end of that, while he was yet half-a-mile in the rear, he saw the wolves come up with the wounded antelope, and drag it down upon the prairie. He made all the haste he could--putting Black Hawk to the top of his speed. In a few minutes he was upon the ground, and scattered the wolves as he galloped among them; but once more he had arrived too late. The body of the antelope was torn to pieces, and more than half devoured; while only half-picked bones and pieces of skin remained to reward him for his long ride!
With an e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.i.o.n, which came very near being a French oath, the disappointed hunter turned his horse, and rode slowly back--wishing the wolves far enough as he went.
When he returned, Francois a.s.sisted him in his maledictions; for Francois was tired of the bear-meat, and was vexed at being thus a second time cheated out of something fresh for supper.
Lucien, however, a.s.sured them both that the flesh of the antelope, as he had heard, was "no great eating," after all; and this, in some degree, pacified them--so that, with a stew of the jerked bear and parsnips, and some pinon bread, which Lucien had prepared according to the Indian fashion, all three made a supper that was not to be sneered at under any circ.u.mstances. When it was eaten, they brought their horses closer to the camp--so as to have them near in case of necessity--and, having wrapped themselves in their blankets, they once more sought the refreshment of sleep.
CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT.
SCATTERING THE CIMMARONS.
This night they were not permitted to sleep without interruption. Two or three times their horses bounded about at the end of their trail-ropes, frightened by some prowling animal. It might be wolves, thought they; but the dog Marengo, who did not mind the wolves, showed symptoms of terror, growling savagely it intervals, but all the while keeping in by the camp. The mule Jeanette, too, came close up to the fire--as near as her rope would allow her--and our adventurers could see that she trembled, as if in fear of some well-known enemy! Several times they could distinguish, amidst the howling of the wolves, a strange sound, differing altogether from the voices of the latter. It was a kind of continued snort, uttered in a low and querulous tone; and when uttered, it always caused Jeanette to start, and Marengo to crouch closer to them. Could it be the voice of the cougar? or, more fearful thought still, the snort of the grizzly bear? The latter was not unlikely. They were now in a region where these fierce animals are to be met with; and just in such a spot as one or more of them would choose for their abode.
It was a fearful apprehension, and it would have banished sleep from the eyes of the young hunters had they been certain that grizzly bears were in their neighbourhood. They were not certain, however; still they resolved not to sleep all at one time, but to keep watch in turns. The fire was replenished with fresh wood, so that the blaze would enable them to see for a good distance around; and then two of them lay down to sleep again, while the third watched, sitting up with his piece in readiness for any sudden attack. Each took a two-hours" turn as sentinel until the morning broke, which put an end to their fears, as no enemy appeared to be near them.
They now bestirred themselves, let loose their horses upon the gra.s.s, performed their ablutions in the crystal water of the spring, and made ready their breakfast. They did not fail to observe, that their stock of the jerked meat could serve them but a day or two longer; for the wolves at their last camp had carried off a considerable portion of it.
They were not without fears as to their future subsistence, as there seemed to be no game in that part of the country except antelopes; and their experience already taught them how little chance they had of capturing these. Should they not fall in with the buffalo, therefore, they might starve with hunger.
These thoughts occupied them while engaged in preparing and eating breakfast; and they resolved to go on half rations of the bear-meat, and economise the little of it that was left.
After breakfast they held a council as to their future route. Should they go north, south, east, or west, from the b.u.t.te? They were of different minds. At length, however, they all agreed that before coming to any determination, it would be best to climb the b.u.t.te, and from its top get a view of the surrounding country, which might enable them to resolve upon the best route to be taken. Perhaps they might see the buffaloes from its summit--as it, no doubt, commanded an extensive view of the prairie on all sides.
Shouldering their guns, and leaving their blankets and utensils by the spring, they started on foot to find a place where they might ascend the eminence. They went round by the western end, for their camp was near its north-east side. As they proceeded, they began to fear that there was no place where the hill could be climbed. On all sides it appeared to be a precipice rising perpendicularly from the plain! Here and there loose rocks lay at its base, as if they had fallen from above; and trees grew out of its face, clinging by their roots in the seams of the cliff.
Scattered pines standing upon its topmost edge, stretched their branches out over the plain; and the aloe plants, the yuccas, and cacti, added to the wild picturesqueness of its appearance.
On reaching the westernmost point of the b.u.t.te, a new object presented itself to the eyes of our adventurers. It resembled a range of cliffs, or low mountains, at a great distance off to the west, and running from north to south as far as they could see. It _was_, in fact, a range of cliffs--similar to those of the b.u.t.te. It was the eastern escarpment of the famous "Llano Estacado," or "Staked Plain." The boys had often heard hunters speak of this tableland, and they recognised its features at a glance. The b.u.t.te around which they were travelling was nothing more than an outlying "mesa" of this singular formation of the prairies.
After gazing, for a moment, on the far-off bluffs, our young hunters continued on their course, keeping around the southern side of the eminence. Still the cliffs rose perpendicularly, and offered no slope by which they might be scaled. They appeared even higher on this side; and in some places hung over, with dark jutting rocks, and large trees growing horizontally outward.
At one place the boys had halted, and were gazing upward, when several strange-looking creatures suddenly appeared upon the edge of the precipice above them. They were animals, but such as they had never seen before. Each of them was as large as a common deer, and nearly of the same colour--reddish upon the back and flanks, though the throat, hips, and under parts, were of a whitish hue. They were nearly deer-shaped, though of somewhat stouter proportions, and to these they bore a strong resemblance in many other respects. In the form of their heads and general expression of their faces they resembled sheep more than any other animals. But the most singular part of them was the horns; and these enabled our hunters at a glance to tell what sort of animals they were. They were the "cimmarons," or wild sheep of the Rocky Mountains.
In regard to their horns, they differed very much from one another; and at first sight there appeared to be two distinct species of animals.
Some of them had short horns--not over six inches in length--rising from the crown of the head and bending slightly backward, without widening much between the tips. These were the females of the flock. The males, however, presented an appearance altogether different, owing to the immense size of their horns. These grew out immediately over their eyes, first curving backwards, and then forwards again, until their points nearly touched the jaws of the animals on both sides. The horns of some were more than a yard in length, and quite half as much in circ.u.mference at the base, where they were deeply indented with ring-like grooves and protuberances, such as are seen in those of the common ram. These huge appendages gave the creatures a singular and imposing appearance, as they stood out upon the brink of the precipice outlined against the blue sky. There were about a dozen of them in all--both males and females,--but the males could be more plainly seen, as they were farther forward upon the cliff, looking down and snuffing the tainted air.