The Boy Hunters by Mayne Reid (ebook reader 8 inch txt) 📖

Black Hawk strayed off to some distance in search of grass, for the latter was scanty near the spot; and what there was of it had been eaten as close to the ground, as if a thousand rabbits had been feeding upon it! Basil did not hinder his horse from going. He knew that he was too well trained to run away, and that he could recall him at any moment by a whistle. He sat still, therefore; now scanning the prairie to the eastward, and now endeavouring to kill time by examining the strange little mounds on the other side. Of these there were thousands—indeed, they covered the plain, both to the north and south, and west, as far as Basil could see. They were shaped like truncated cones, about three feet in diameter at the base, and not over two in height. Near the top of each was the entrance—a hole not much larger than would have been used by a rat. There was no grass immediately around this hole, although the sides and tops of the mounds were clothed with a smooth green turf that gave them the appearance of having been constructed a long time ago.

The inhabitants of these singular dwellings soon began to show themselves. They had been terrified by the thundering tread of the steeds, and had hidden at their approach. All was now silent again, and they thought they might venture abroad. First one little snout peeped out, and then another, and another until every hole had a head and a pair of sparkling eyes looking forth. After a while the owners of the heads became more courageous, and boldly stepped out-of-doors; and then could be seen hundreds of these strange creatures. They were of a reddish-brown colour, with breasts and bellies of a dirty white. Their bodies were about the size of the common grey squirrel; but their general appearance partook of the squirrel, the weasel, and the rat—all three of which they in some respects resembled, and yet were not like any of them. They were a distinct species of animals. They were Marmots, that species known by the fanciful appellation of “prairie-dogs,” (Arctomys ludoviciana). Their tails were very short, and not bushy as those of squirrels; and altogether their bodies had not the graceful symmetry of these animals. In a short time every mound had two or three on its top—for several individuals dwell together in the same house. Some sat upon all fours, while others erected themselves on their hind-feet, and stood up like little bears or monkeys—all the while flourishing their tails and uttering their tiny barking, that sounded like the squeak of a toy-dog. It is from this that they derive the name of “prairie-dogs,” for in nothing else do they resemble the canine species. Like all marmots—and there are many different kinds—they are innocent little creatures, and live upon grass, seeds, and roots. They must eat very little; and indeed it is a puzzle to naturalists how they sustain themselves. Their great “towns” near the Rocky Mountains are generally in barren tracts, where there is but a scanty herbage; and yet the inhabitants are never found more than half a mile from their dwellings. How, then, do thousands of them subsist on what little grass can grow in a pasture so circumscribed? This has not been explained; nor is it known why they choose these barren tracts for their dwelling-places, in preference to the more fertile prairies. All these things await the study and observation of the historian of nature.

Basil was surprised to observe that the marmots were not alone the occupants of their town. There were other creatures moving about of an entirely different kind, and they also seemed to be perfectly at home. There were white owls, about the size of pigeons, of a species he had never seen before. These were the burrowing owls (Strix cunicularia), differing altogether from their blind cousins of the night who dwell in thick woods and old ruins. He saw these little owls gliding about on silent wing, or standing erect upon the tops of the houses, at a distance looking exactly like the marmots themselves.

Besides the marmots and owls there were other live creatures in sight. There were small lizards scuttling about; and crawling among the mounds was seen a hideous form—also of the lizard kind—the “horned frog” (Agama cornuta). These creatures were new to Basil; and their ugly earth-coloured bodies, their half-toad half-lizard shape, with the thorn like protuberances, upon their back, shoulders, and head, inspired him with disgust as he gazed upon them. He could see, too, the small land-tortoise (Cistuda) squatting upon the ground, and peeping cautiously out of its box-like shell. But there was another creature in this community more fearful than all the rest. This was the ground rattle-snake, which could be seen, coiled up, and basking in the sun, or gliding among the mounds, as if searching for his prey. Basil noticed that it was a different species from any of the rattle-snakes he had seen—differing from them in its shape and markings, but equally vicious in its appearance and habits. It was the Crotalus tergeminus—found only in barren grounds, such as those inhabited by the prairie-marmot.

Basil could not help falling into a train of reflection about this varied community of creatures. Were they friends to each other? or did they form a chain of destruction, preying upon one another? Friends they could not all be. The marmots lived upon grass; and the lizards upon insects and prairie-crickets, of which there were numbers around. Upon these, too, no doubt, the tortoises supported themselves; but upon what fed the owls and snakes?

These questions puzzled Basil. He could not satisfy himself about them; and he thought of Lucien, who understood the habits of these various animals better than himself. He began to think both of Lucien and François—for two hours had now passed, and they did not make their appearance! He was fast becoming uneasy, when a small group of objects was seen approaching from the eastward, which, to his joy, proved to be the party.

In half an hour afterwards they rode up greeting their brother with joyful shouts. They had been travelling briskly ever since the morning, and upon Basil’s tracks too, showing what a stretch of ground he must have passed over in his wild gallop. They saw at once that the white horse had got off; and Basil, in a few words, gave them an account of the chase and how it had come to an end.

As it was now afternoon, and the butte still appeared distant, they made but a short halt—just long enough to swallow a morsel of meat and take a drink from their water-gourds, which, owing to the intense heat, were now better than half empty. Their animals already suffered from thirst; so, without delay, the young hunters got into their saddles, with the intention of continuing their journey.

“Across the dog-town?” inquired François, who had mounted first. “Shall we ride through it or go round?”

Here was a difficulty, indeed. The dog-town lay directly between them and the butte. To keep straight forward they would have to ride through it. That would impede them to a considerable extent, as they could only ride slowly and in zig-zag lines without danger. To go round it, on the other hand, might lead them miles out of the way—perhaps many miles—for these marmot villages are frequently of large extent.

“Let us go south a bit,” advised Lucien. “Perhaps we may come to the end of it that way.”

They all turned their horses for the south, and commenced riding in that direction.

They rode for at least two miles, keeping along the border of the settlement: but they could still see it ahead, apparently stretching for miles farther.

“We have come the wrong way,” said Lucien; “we might have done better had we turned north. We must cross it now; what say you, brothers?”

All agreed to this; for it is not very pleasant to be going about, when the goal of one’s journey is within sight. So the heads of the horses were brought round once more facing the butte; and the party rode in among the mounds, and proceeded slowly and with great caution. As they approached, the little “dogs” ran to their hillocks, barked at the intruders, shook their short tails, and then whisked themselves off into their holes. Whenever the party had got past, a hundred yards or so, the marmots would come forth again, and utter their tiny cough-like notes as before; so that, when our travellers were fairly into the “town,” they found themselves at all times in the centre of a barking circle!

The owls rose up before them, alighting at short distances; then, once more startled, they would fly farther off, sometimes sailing away until out of sight, and sometimes, like the marmots, hiding themselves within the burrows. The rattle-snakes, too, betook themselves to the burrows, and so did the lizards and agamas. What appeared most strange, was, that all of these creatures—marmots, owls, snakes, lizards, and agamas—were observed, when suddenly escaping, sometimes to enter the same mound! This our travellers witnessed more than once.

Very naturally the conversation turned upon these things; and Lucien added some facts to what Basil had already observed.

“The holes,” said he, “had we time to dig them up, would be found to descend perpendicularly for two or three feet. They then run obliquely for several feet farther, and end in a little chamber which is the real house of the marmot. I say the real house, for these cone-like mounds are only the entrances. They have been formed out of the earth brought up from below at the making of the burrows. As you see, this earth has not been allowed to lie in a neglected heap, such as rats and rabbits leave at the mouths of their burrows. On the contrary, it has been built up with great care, and beaten together by the marmots’ feet until quite firm and smooth; and the grass has been