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

follow the big fellows and help them to eat what they kill, though they generally sit round and look on at the killing.”

“Hist!” exclaimed Joe, cocking his gun, “there he is, an’ no mistake.”

There he was, undoubtedly. A wolf of the largest size with one of his feet in the trap. He was a terrible-looking object, for, besides his immense size and naturally ferocious aspect, his white hair bristled on end and was all covered with streaks and spots of blood from his bloody jaws. In his efforts to escape he had bitten the trap until he had broken his teeth and lacerated his gums, so that his appearance was hideous in the extreme. And when the two men came up he struggled with all his might to fly at them.

Cameron and Joe stood looking at him in a sort of wondering admiration.

“We’d better put a ball in him,” suggested Joe after a time. “Mayhap the chain won’t stand sich tugs long.”

“True, Joe; if it breaks we might get an ugly nip before we killed him.”

So saying Cameron fired into the wolf’s head and killed it. It was found, on examination, that four wolves had been in the traps, but the rest had escaped. Two of them, however, had gnawed off their paws and left them lying in the traps.

After this the big wolves did not trouble them again. The same afternoon, a bear-hunt was undertaken, which well-nigh cost one of the Iroquois his life. It happened thus:—

While Cameron and Joe were away after the white wolves, Henri came floundering into camp tossing his arms like a maniac, and shouting that “seven bars wos be down in de bush close bye!” It chanced that this was an idle day with most of the men, so they all leaped on their horses, and taking guns and knives sallied forth to give battle to the bears.

Arrived at the scene of action they found the seven bears busily engaged in digging up roots, so the men separated in order to surround them, and then closed in. The place was partly open and partly covered with thick bushes into which a horseman could not penetrate. The moment the bears got wind of what was going forward they made off as fast as possible, and then commenced a scene of firing, galloping, and yelling, that defies description! Four out of the seven were shot before they gained the bushes; the other three were wounded, but made good their retreat. As their places of shelter, however, were like islands in the plain, they had no chance of escaping.

The horsemen now dismounted and dashed recklessly into the bushes, where they soon discovered and killed two of the bears; the third was not found for some time. At last an Iroquois came upon it so suddenly that he had not time to point his gun before the bear sprang upon him and struck him to the earth, where it held him down.

Instantly the place was surrounded by eager men, but the bushes were so thick and the fallen trees among which the bear stood were so numerous, that they could not use their guns without running the risk of shooting their companion. Most of them drew their knives and seemed about to rush on the bear with these, but the monster’s aspect, as it glared round, was so terrible that they held back for a moment in hesitation.

At this moment Henri, who had been at some distance engaged in the killing of one of the other bears, came rushing forward after his own peculiar manner.

“Ah! fat is eet—hay? de bar no go under yit?”

Just then his eye fell on the wounded Iroquois with the bear above him, and he uttered a yell so intense in tone that the bear himself seemed to feel that something decisive was about to be done at last. Henri did not pause, but with a flying dash he sprang like a spread eagle, arms and legs extended, right into the bear’s bosom. At the same moment he sent his long hunting-knife down into its heart. But Bruin is proverbially hard to kill, and although mortally wounded, he had strength enough to open his jaws and close them on Henri’s neck.

There was a cry of horror, and at the same moment a volley was fired at the bear’s head, for the trappers felt that it was better to risk shooting their comrades than see them killed before their eyes. Fortunately the bullets took effect, and tumbled him over at once without doing damage to either of the men, although several of the balls just grazed Henri’s temple and carried off his cap.

Although uninjured by the shot, the poor Iroquois had not escaped scatheless from the paw of the bear. His scalp was torn almost off, and hung down over his eyes, while blood streamed down his face. He was conveyed by his comrades to the camp, where he lay two days in a state of insensibility, at the end of which time he revived and recovered daily. Afterwards when the camp moved he had to be carried, but in the course of two months he was as well as ever, and quite as fond of bear-hunting!

Among other trophies of this hunt there were two deer, and a buffalo, which last had probably strayed from the herd. Four or five Iroquois were round this animal whetting their knives for the purpose of cutting it up when Henri passed, so he turned aside to watch them perform the operation, quite regardless of the fact that his neck and face were covered with blood which flowed from one or two small punctures made by the bear.

The Indians began by taking off the skin, which certainly did not occupy them more than five minutes. Then they cut up the meat and made a pack of it, and cut out the tongue, which is somewhat troublesome, as that member requires to be cut out from under the jaw of the animal, and not through the natural opening of the mouth. One of the fore-legs was cut off at the knee joint, and this was used as a hammer with which to break the skull for the purpose of taking out the brains, these being used in the process of dressing and softening the animal’s skin. An axe would have been of advantage to break the skull, but in the hurry of rushing to the attack the Indians had forgotten their axes, so they adopted the common fashion of using the buffalo’s hoof as a hammer, the shank being the handle. The whole operation of flaying, cutting up, and packing the meat, did not occupy more than twenty minutes. Before leaving the ground these expert butchers treated themselves to a little of the marrow and warm liver in a raw state!

Cameron and Joe walked up to the group while they were indulging in this little feast.

“Well, I’ve often seen that eaten, but I never could do it myself,” remarked the former.

“No!” cried Joe in surprise; “now that’s oncommon cur’us. I’ve lived on raw liver an’ marrow-bones for two or three days at a time, when we wos chased by the Camanchee Injuns and didn’t dare to make a fire, an’ it’s ra’al good it is. Won’t ye try it now?”

Cameron shook his head.

“No, thankee; I’ll not refuse when I can’t help it, but until then I’ll remain in happy ignorance of how good it is.”

“Well, it is strange how some folk can’t abide anything in the meat way they han’t bin used to. D’ye know I’ve actually knowd men from the cities as wouldn’t eat a bit o’ horseflesh for love or money. Would ye believe it?”

“I can well believe that, Joe, for I have met with such persons myself; in fact, they are rather numerous. What are you chuckling at, Joe?”

“Chucklin’? if ye mean be that ‘larfin’ in to myself’ it’s because I’m thinkin’ o’ a chap as once comed out to the prairies.”

“Let us walk back to the camp, Joe, and you can tell me about him as we go along.”

“I think,” continued Joe, “he comed from Washington, but I never could make out right whether he wos a government man or not. Anyhow, he wos a pheelosopher—a natter-list I think he call his-self.”

“A naturalist,” suggested Cameron.

“Ay, that wos more like it. Well, he wos about six feet two in his moccasins, an’ as thin as a ramrod, an’ as blind as a bat—leastways he had weak eyes an wore green spectacles. He had on a grey shootin’ coat and trousers and vest and cap, with rid whiskers an’ a long nose as rid at the point as the whiskers wos.

“Well, this gentleman engaged me an’ another hunter to go a trip with him into the prairies, so off we sot one fine day on three hosses with our blankets at our backs—we wos to depend on the rifle for victuals. At first I thought the Natter-list one o’ the cruellest beggars as iver went on two long legs, for he used to go about everywhere pokin’ pins through all the beetles, and flies, an’ creepin’ things he could sot eyes on, an’ stuck them in a box; but he told me he comed here a-purpose to git as many o’ them as he could; so says I, ‘If that’s it, I’ll fill yer box in no time.’

“‘Will ye?’ says he, quite pleased like.

“‘I will,’ says I, an’ galloped off to a place as was filled wi’ all sorts o’ crawlin’ things. So I sets to work, and whenever I seed a thing crawlin’ I sot my fut on it and crushed it, and soon filled my breast pocket. I coched a lot o’ butterflies too, an’ stuffed them into my shot pouch, and went back in an hour or two an’ showed him the lot. He put on his green spectacles and looked at them as if he’d seen a rattlesnake.

“‘My good man,’ says he, ‘you’ve crushed them all to pieces!’

“‘They’ll taste as good for all that,’ says I, for somehow I’d taken’t in me head that he’d heard o’ the way the Injuns make soup o’ the grasshoppers, an was wantin’ to try his hand at a new dish!

“He laughed when I said this, an’ told me he wos collectin’ them to take home to be looked at. But that’s not wot I wos goin’ to tell ye about him,” continued Joe; “I wos goin’ to tell ye how we made him eat horseflesh. He carried a revolver, too, this Natter-list did, to load wi’ shot as small as dust a-most, and shoot little birds with. I’ve seed him miss birds only three feet away with it. An’ one day he drew it all of a suddent and let fly at a big bum-bee that wos passin’, yellin’ out that it wos the finest wot he had iver seed. He missed the bee, of coorse, cause it was a flyin’ shot, he said, but he sent the whole charge right into Martin’s back—Martin was my comrade’s name. By good luck Martin had on a thick leather coat, so the shot niver got the length o’ his skin.

“One day I noticed that the Natter-list had stuffed small corks into the muzzles of all the six barrels of his revolver. I wondered what they wos for, but he wos al’ays doin’ sich queer things that I soon forgot it. ‘May be,’ thought I, jist before it went out o’ my mind,—‘may be he thinks that ’ll stop the pistol from goin’ off by accident,’ for ye must know he’d let it off three times the first day by accident, and well-nigh blowed off his leg the last time, only the shot lodged in the back o’ a big toad he’d jist stuffed into his breeches’ pocket. Well, soon after, we shot a buffalo bull, so when it fell, off he jumps from his horse an runs up to