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Read books online » Fiction » The Dog Crusoe and his Master by R. M. Ballantyne (free ebook reader for pc .TXT) 📖

Book online «The Dog Crusoe and his Master by R. M. Ballantyne (free ebook reader for pc .TXT) 📖». Author R. M. Ballantyne



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in diameter, which he or some other member of the tribe must have procured during one of their few excursions to the trading forts of the Pale-faces, and examined himself, as well as he could, in so limited a space. Next, he took a little vermilion from a small parcel and rubbed it over his face until it presented the somewhat demoniac appearance of a fiery red. He also drew a broad red score along the crown of his head, which was closely shaved, with the exception of the usual tuft or scalp-lock on the top. This scalp-lock stood bristling straight up a few inches, and then curved over and hung down his back about two feet. Immense care and attention was bestowed on this lock. He smoothed it, greased it, and plaited it into the form of a pigtail. Another application was here made to the glass, and the result was evidently satisfactory, to judge from the beaming smile that played on his features. But, not content with the general effect, he tried the effect of expression—frowned portentously, scowled savagely, gaped hideously, and grinned horribly a ghastly smile.

Then our dandy fitted into his ears, which were bored in several places, sundry ornaments, such as rings, wampum, etcetera, and hung several strings of beads round his neck. Besides these he affixed one or two ornaments to his arms, wrists, and ankles, and touched in a few effects with vermilion on the shoulders and breast. After this, and a few more glances at the glass, he put on a pair of beautiful moccasins, which, besides being richly wrought with beads, were soft as chamois leather, and fitted his feet like gloves; a pair of leggings of scarlet cloth were drawn on, attached to a waist-belt, and bound below the knee with broad garters of variegated bead-work.

It was some time before this Adonis was quite satisfied with himself. He re-touched the paint on his shoulders several times, and modified the glare of that on his wide-mouthed, high-cheek-boned visage before he could tear himself away; but at last he did so, and, throwing a large piece of scarlet cloth over his shoulders, he thrust his looking-glass under his belt, and proceeded to mount his palfrey, which was held in readiness near to the tent door by one of his wives. The horse was really a fine animal, and seemed worthy of a more warlike master. His shoulders, too, were striped with red paint, and feathers were intertwined with his mane and tail, while the bridle was decorated with various jingling ornaments.

Vaulting upon his steed, with a large fan of wild goose and turkey feathers in one hand, and a whip dangling at the wrist of the other, this incomparable dandy sallied forth for a promenade—that being his chief delight when there was no buffalo hunting to be done. Other men who were not dandies sharpened their knives, smoked, feasted, and mended their spears and arrows at such seasons of leisure, or played at athletic games.

“Let’s follow my buck,” said Joe Blunt.

“Oui. Come ’long,” replied Henri, striding after the rider at a pace that almost compelled his comrades to run.

“Hold on!” cried Dick, laughing; “we don’t want to keep him company. A distant view is quite enough o’ sich a chap as that.”

“Mais, you forgit, I cannot see far.”

“So much the better,” remarked Joe; “it’s my opinion we’ve seen enough o’ him. Ah! he’s goin’ to look on at the games. Them’s worth lookin’ at.”

The games to which Joe referred were taking place on a green level plain close to the creek, and a little above the waterfall before referred to. Some of the Indians were horse-racing, some jumping, and others wrestling; but the game which proved most attractive was throwing the javelin, in which several of the young braves were engaged.

This game is played by two competitors, each armed with a dart, in an arena about fifty yards long. One of the players has a hoop of six inches in diameter. At a signal they start off on foot at full speed, and on reaching the middle of the arena the Indian with the hoop rolls it along before them, and each does his best to send a javelin through the hoop before the other. He who succeeds counts so many points—if both miss, the nearest to the hoop is allowed to count, but not so much as if he had “ringed” it. The Indians are very fond of this game, and will play at it under a broiling sun for hours together. But a good deal of the interest attaching to it is owing to the fact that they make it a means of gambling. Indians are inveterate gamblers, and will sometimes go on until they lose horses, bows, blankets, robes, and, in short, their whole personal property. The consequences are, as might be expected, that fierce and bloody quarrels sometimes arise in which life is often lost.

“Try your hand at that,” said Henri to Dick.

“By all means,” cried Dick, handing his rifle to his friend, and springing into the ring enthusiastically.

A general shout of applause greeted the Pale-face, who threw off his coat and tightened his belt, while a young Indian presented him with a dart.

“Now, see that ye do us credit, lad,” said Joe.

“I’ll try,” answered Dick.

In a moment they were off. The young Indian rolled away the hoop, and Dick threw his dart with such vigour that it went deep into the ground, but missed the hoop by a foot at least. The young Indian’s first dart went through the centre.

“Ha!” exclaimed Joe Blunt to the Indians near him, “the lad’s not used to that game, try him at a race. Bring out your best brave—he whose bound is like the hunted deer.”

We need scarcely remind the reader that Joe spoke in the Indian language, and that the above is a correct rendering of the sense of what he said.

The name of Tarwicadia, or the little chief, immediately passed from lip to lip, and in a few minutes an Indian, a little below the medium size, bounded into the arena with an indiarubber-like elasticity that caused a shade of anxiety to pass over Joe’s face.

“Ah, boy!” he whispered, “I’m afeared you’ll find him a tough customer.”

“That’s just what I want,” replied Dick. “He’s supple enough, but he wants muscle in the thigh. We’ll make it a long heat.”

“Right, lad, yer right.”

Joe now proceeded to arrange the conditions of the race with the chiefs around him. It was fixed that the distance to be run should be a mile, so that the race would be one of two miles, out and back. Moreover, the competitors were to run without any clothes, except a belt and a small piece of cloth round the loins. This to the Indians was nothing, for they seldom wore more in warm weather, but Dick would have preferred to keep on part of his dress. The laws of the course, however, would not permit of this, so he stripped and stood forth, the beau-ideal of a well-formed, agile man. He was greatly superior in size to his antagonist, and more muscular, the savage being slender and extremely lithe and springy.

“Hah! I will run too,” shouted Henri, bouncing forward with clumsy energy, and throwing off his coat just as they were going to start.

The savages smiled at this unexpected burst and made no objection, considering the thing in the light of a joke.

The signal was given, and away they went. Oh! it would have done you good to have seen the way in which Henri manoeuvred his limbs on this celebrated occasion! He went over the ground with huge elephantine bounds, runs, and jumps. He could not have been said to have one style of running; he had a dozen styles, all of which came into play in the course of half as many minutes. The other two ran like the wind; yet, although Henri appeared to be going heavily over the ground, he kept up with them to the turning point. As for Dick, it became evident in the first few minutes that he could outstrip his antagonist with ease, and was hanging back a little all the time. He shot ahead like an arrow when they came about half-way back, and it was clear that the real interest of the race was to lie in the competition between Henri and Tarwicadia.

Before they were two-thirds of the way back, Dick walked in to the winning point, and turned to watch the others. Henri’s wind was about gone, for he exerted himself with such violence that he wasted half his strength. The Indian, on the contrary, was comparatively fresh, but he was not so fleet as his antagonist, whose tremendous strides carried him over the ground at an incredible pace. On they came neck and neck, till close on the score that marked the winning point. Here the value of enthusiasm came out strongly in the case of Henri. He felt that he could not gain an inch on Tarwicadia to save his life; but, just as he came up, he observed the anxious faces of his comrades and the half-sneering countenances of the savages. His heart thumped against his ribs, every muscle thrilled with a gush of conflicting feelings, and he hurled himself over the score like a cannon shot, full six inches ahead of the little chief!

But the thing did not by any means end here. Tarwicadia pulled up the instant he had passed. Not so our Canadian. Such a clumsy and colossal frame was not to be checked in a moment. The crowd of Indians opened up to let him pass, but unfortunately a small tent that stood in the way was not so obliging. Into it he went, head-foremost, like a shell, carried away the corner-post with his shoulder, and brought the whole affair down about his own ears, and those of its inmates, among whom were several children and two or three dogs. It required some time to extricate them all from the ruins, but when this was effected, it was found that no serious damage had been done to life or limb!

Chapter Nine. Crusoe acts a conspicuous and humane part—A friend gained—A great feast.

When the foot-race was concluded, the three hunters hung about, looking on at the various games for some time, and then strolled towards the lake.

“Ye may be thankful yer neck’s whole,” said Joe, grinning, as Henri rubbed his shoulder with a rueful look. “An’ we’ll have to send that Injun and his family a knife and some beads to make up for the fright they got.”

“Hah! an’ fat is to be give to me for my broke shoulder?”

“Credit, man, credit,” said Dick Varley, laughing.

“Credit! fat is dat?”

“Honour and glory, lad, and the praises of them savages.”

“Ha! de praise? more probeebale de ill-vill of de rascale. I seed dem scowl at me not ver’ pritty.”

“That’s true, Henri, but sich as it is it’s all ye’ll git.”

“I vish,” remarked Henri after a pause—“I vish I could git de vampum belt de leetle chief had on. It vas superb. Fat place do vampums come from?”

“They’re shells—”

“Oui,” interrupted Henri. “I know fat de is. Dey is shells, and de Injuns tink dem goot monish; mais, I ask you fat place de come from.”

“They are thought to be gathered on the shores o’ the Pacific,” said Joe; “the Injuns on the west o’ the Rocky Mountains picks them up and exchanges them wi’ the fellows here-away for horses and skins—so I’m told.”

At this moment there was a wild cry of terror heard a short distance ahead of them. Rushing forward they observed an Indian woman flying frantically down the river’s bank towards the waterfall, a hundred yards above which an object was seen struggling in the water.

“’Tis her child,” cried Joe, as the mother’s frantic cry reached his ear. “It’ll be over the fall in a minute! Run, Dick, you’re quickest.”

They had

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