The Dog Crusoe and his Master by Robert Michael Ballantyne (the read aloud family .txt) 📖

after a good deal of discussion they agreed to take advantage of Joe Blunt's offer, and appoint him as a deputy to the court of their enemies. Having arranged these matters to their satisfaction, Cameron bestowed a red flag and a blue surtout with brass buttons on each of the chiefs, and a variety of smaller articles on the other members of the council, and sent them away in a particularly amiable frame of mind.

Pee-eye-em burst the blue surtout at the shoulders and elbows in putting it on, as it was much too small for his gigantic frame, but, never having seen such an article of apparel before, he either regarded this as the natural and proper consequence of putting it on, or was totally indifferent to it, for he merely looked at the rents with a smile of satisfaction, while his squaw surreptitiously cut off the two back buttons and thrust them into her bosom.

By the time the council closed the night was far advanced, and a bright moon was shedding a flood of soft light over the picturesque and busy scene.

"I'll go to the Injun camp," said Joe to Walter Cameron, as the chiefs rose to depart. "The season's far enough advanced already; it's time to be off; and if I'm to speak for the Red-skins in the Blackfeet Council, I'd need to know what to say."

"Please yourself, Master Blunt," answered Cameron. "I like your company and that of your friends, and if it suited you I would be glad to take you along with us to the coast of the Pacific; but your mission among the Indians is a good one, and I'll help it on all I can. I suppose you will go also?" he added, turning to Dick Varley, who was still seated beside the council-fire caressing Crusoe.

"Wherever Joe goes, I go," answered Dick.

Crusoe's tail, ears and eyes demonstrated high approval of the sentiment involved in this speech.

"And your friend Henri?"

"He goes too," answered Joe. "It's as well that the Red-skins should see the three o' us before we start for the east side o' the mountains. Ho! Henri, come here, lad."

Henri obeyed, and in a few seconds the three friends crossed the brook to the Indian camp, and were guided to the principal lodge by Pee-eye-em. Here a great council was held, and the proposed attempt at negotiations for peace with their ancient enemies fully discussed. While they were thus engaged, and just as Pee-eye-em had, in the energy of an enthusiastic peroration burst the blue surtout _almost_ up to the collar, a distant rushing sound was heard, which caused every man to spring to his feet, run out of the tent, and seize his weapons.

"What can it be, Joe?" whispered Dick, as they stood at the tent door leaning on their rifles, and listening intently.

"Dunno," answered Joe shortly.

Most of the numerous fires of the camp had gone out, but the bright moon revealed the dusky forms of thousands of Indians, whom the unwonted sound had startled, moving rapidly about.

The mystery was soon explained. The Indian camp was pitched on an open plain of several miles in extent, which took a sudden bend half a mile distant, where a spur of the mountains shut out the further end of the valley from view. From beyond this point the dull rumbling sound proceeded. Suddenly there was a roar as if a mighty cataract had been let loose upon the scene. At the same moment a countless herd of wild horses came thundering round the base of the mountain and swept over the plain straight towards the Indian camp.

"A stampedo!" cried Joe, springing to the assistance of Pee-eye-em, whose favourite horses were picketted near the tent.

On they came like a living torrent, and the thunder of a thousand hoofs was soon mingled with the howling of hundreds of dogs in the camp, and the yelling of Indians, as they vainly endeavoured to restrain the rising excitement of their steeds. Henri and Dick stood rooted to the ground, gazing in silent wonder at the fierce and uncontrollable gallop of the thousands of panic-stricken horses that bore down upon the camp with the tumultuous violence of a mighty cataract.

As the maddened troop drew nigh, the camp horses began to snort and tremble violently, and when the rush of the wild steeds was almost upon them, they became ungovernable with terror, broke their halters and hobbles, and dashed wildly about. To add to the confusion at that moment, a cloud passed over the moon and threw the whole scene into deep obscurity. Blind with terror, which was probably increased by the din of their own mad flight, the galloping troop came on, and, with a sound like the continuous roar of thunder that for an instant drowned the yell of dog and man, they burst upon the camp, trampling over packs and skins, and dried meat, etcetera, in their headlong speed, and overturning several of the smaller tents. In another moment they swept out upon the plain beyond, and were soon lost in the darkness of the night, while the yelping of dogs, as they vainly pursued them, mingled and gradually died away with the distant thunder of their retreat.

This was a "_stampedo_," one of the most extraordinary scenes that can be witnessed in the western wilderness.

"Lend a hand, Henri," shouted Joe, who was struggling with a powerful horse. "Wot's comed over yer brains, man? This brute 'll git off if ye don't look sharp."

Dick and Henri both answered to the summons, and they succeeded in throwing the struggling animal on its side and holding it down until its excitement was somewhat abated. Pee-eye-em had also been successful in securing his favourite hunter, but nearly every other horse belonging to the camp had broken loose and joined the whirlwind gallop, but they gradually dropped out, and, before morning, the most of them were secured by their owners. As there were at least two thousand horses and an equal number of dogs in the part of the Indian camp which had been thus over-run by the wild mustangs, the turmoil, as may be imagined, was prodigious! Yet, strange to say, no accident of a serious nature occurred beyond the loss of several chargers.

In the midst of this exciting scene there was one heart there which beat with a nervous vehemence that well-nigh burst it. This was the heart of Dick Varley's horse, Charlie. Well-known to him was that distant rumbling sound that floated on the night air into the fur-trader's camp where he was picketted close to Cameron's tent. Many a time had he heard the approach of such a wild troop, and often, in days not long gone by, had his shrill neigh rung out as he joined and led the panic-stricken band. He was first to hear the sound, and by his restive actions, to draw the attention of the fur-traders to it. As a precautionary measure they all sprang up and stood by their horses to soothe them, but as a brook with a belt of bushes and quarter of a mile of plain intervened between their camp and the mustangs as they flew past, they had little or no trouble in restraining them. Not so, however, with Charlie. At the very moment that his master was congratulating himself on the supposed security of his position, he wrenched the halter from the hand of him who held it, burst through the barrier of felled trees that had been thrown round the camp, cleared the brook at a bound, and, with a wild hilarious neigh, resumed his old place in the ranks of the free-born mustangs of the prairie.

Little did Dick think, when the flood of horses swept past him, that his own good steed was there, rejoicing in his recovered liberty. But Crusoe knew it. Ay, the wind had borne down the information to his acute nose before the living storm burst upon the camp, and when Charlie rushed past with the long tough halter trailing at his heels, Crusoe sprang to his side, seized the end of the halter with his teeth, and galloped off along with him.

It was a long gallop and a tough one, but Crusoe held on, for it was a settled principle in his mind _never_ to give in. At first the check upon Charlie's speed was imperceptible, but by degrees the weight of the gigantic dog began to tell, and, after a time, they fell a little to the rear; then, by good fortune, the troop passed through a mass of underwood, and the line, getting entangled, brought their mad career forcibly to a close; the mustangs passed on, and the two friends were left to keep each other company in the dark.

How long they would have remained thus is uncertain, for neither of them had sagacity enough to undo a complicated entanglement; fortunately, however, in his energetic tugs at the line, Crusoe's sharp teeth partially severed it, and a sudden start on the part of Charlie caused it to part. Before he could escape, Crusoe again seized the end of it and led him slowly but steadily back to the Indian camp, never halting or turning aside until he had placed the line in Dick Varley's hand.

"Hallo, pup! where have ye bin. How did ye bring him here?" exclaimed Dick, as he gazed in amazement at his foam-covered horse.

Crusoe wagged his tail, as if to say, "Be thankful that you've got him, Dick, my boy, and don't ask questions that you know I can't answer."

"He must ha' broke loose and jined the stampedo," remarked Joe, coming out of the chief's tent at the moment; "but tie him up, Dick, and come in, for we want to settle about startin' to-morrow or nixt day."

Having fastened Charlie to a stake, and ordered Crusoe to watch him, Dick re-entered the tent where the council had re-assembled, and where Pee-eye-em--having, in the recent struggle, split the blue surtout completely up to the collar, so that his backbone was visible throughout the greater part of its length--was holding forth in eloquent strains on the subject of peace in general and peace with the Blackfeet, the ancient enemies of the Shirry-dikas, in particular.


CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR.


PLANS AND PROSPECTS--DICK BECOMES HOME-SICK, AND HENRI METAPHYSICAL--THE INDIANS ATTACK THE CAMP--A BLOW-UP.

On the following day the Indians gave themselves up to unlimited feasting, in consequence of the arrival of a large body of hunters with an immense supply of buffalo meat. It was a regular day of rejoicing. Upwards of six hundred buffaloes had been killed, and as the supply of meat before their arrival had been ample, the camp was now overflowing with plenty. Feasts were given by the chiefs, and the medicine-men went about the camp uttering loud cries, which were meant to express gratitude to the Great Spirit for the bountiful supply of food. They also carried a portion of meat to the aged and infirm who were unable to hunt for themselves, and had no young men in their family circle to hunt for them.

This arrival of the hunters was a fortunate circumstance, as it put the Indians in great good-humour, and inclined them to hold friendly intercourse with the trappers, who for some time continued to drive a brisk trade in furs. Having no market for the disposal of their furs, the Indians of course