The Dog Crusoe and His Master: A Story of Adventure in the Western Prairies by - (e reader .txt) 📖

on the scene of
action.

The brook was cleared at a bound; the three hunters
leaped from their steeds and sprang to the front with
a degree of energy that had a visible effect on the
savages; and Cameron, seizing the moment, proposed
that the two parties should smoke a pipe and hold a
council. The Indians agreed, and in a few minutes
they were engaged in animated and friendly intercourse.
The speeches were long, and the compliments paid on
either side were inflated, and, we fear, undeserved; but
the result of the interview was, that Cameron made the
Indians a present of tobacco and a few trinkets, and
sent them back to their friends to tell them that he
was willing to trade with them.

Next day the whole tribe arrived in the valley, and
pitched their deerskin tents on the plain opposite to
the camp of the white men. Their numbers far exceeded
Cameron's expectation, and it was with some
anxiety that he proceeded to strengthen his fortifications
as much as circumstances and the nature of the
ground would admit.

The Indian camp, which numbered upwards of a
thousand souls, was arranged with great regularity, and
was divided into three distinct sections, each section
being composed of a separate tribe. The Great Snake
nation at that time embraced three tribes or divisions--namely,
the Shirry-dikas, or dog-eaters; the War-are-ree-kas,
or fish-eaters; and the Banattees, or robbers.
These were the most numerous and powerful
Indians on the west side of the Rocky Mountains. The
Shirry-dikas dwelt in the plains, and hunted the buffaloes;
dressed well; were cleanly; rich in horses; bold,
independent, and good warriors. The War-are-ree-kas
lived chiefly by fishing, and were found on the banks
of the rivers and lakes throughout the country. They
were more corpulent, slovenly, and indolent than the
Shirry-dikas, and more peaceful. The Banattees, as
we have before mentioned, were the robbers of the
mountains. They were a wild and contemptible race,
and at enmity with every one. In summer they went
about nearly naked. In winter they clothed themselves
in the skins of rabbits and wolves. Being excellent
mimics, they could imitate the howling of
wolves, the neighing of horses, and the cries of birds, by
which means they could approach travellers, rob them,
and then fly to their rocky fastnesses in the mountains,
where pursuit was vain.

Such were the men who now assembled in front of
the camp of the fur-traders, and Cameron soon found
that the news of his presence in the country had spread
far and wide among the natives, bringing them to the
neighbourhood of his camp in immense crowds, so that
during the next few days their numbers increased to
thousands.

Several long palavers quickly ensued between the
red men and the white, and the two great chiefs who
seemed to hold despotic rule over the assembled tribes
were extremely favourable to the idea of universal peace
which was propounded to them. In several set speeches
of great length and very considerable power, these
natural orators explained their willingness to enter into
amicable relations with all the surrounding nations, as
well as with the white men.

"But," said Pee-eye-em, the chief of the Shirry-dikas,
a man above six feet high, and of immense muscular
strength--"but my tribe cannot answer for the Banattees,
who are robbers, and cannot be punished, because they dwell in
scattered
families among the mountains. The Banattees are bad; they cannot be
trusted."

None of the Banattees were present at the council
when this was said; and if they had been it would have
mattered little, for they were neither fierce nor courageous,
although bold enough in their own haunts to
murder and rob the unwary.

The second chief did not quite agree with Pee-eye-em.
He said that it was impossible for them to make
peace with their natural enemies, the Peigans and the
Blackfeet on the east side of the mountains. It was
very desirable, he admitted; but neither of these tribes
would consent to it, he felt sure.

Upon this Joe Blunt rose and said, "The great chief
of the War-are-ree-kas is wise, and knows that enemies
cannot be reconciled unless deputies are sent to make
proposals of peace."

"The Pale-face does not know the Blackfeet," answered
the chief. "Who will go into the lands of the
Blackfeet? My young men have been sent once and
again, and their scalps are now fringes to the leggings
of their enemies. The War-are-ree-kas do not cross the
mountains but for the purpose of making war."

"The chief speaks truth," returned Joe; "yet there
are three men round the council fire who will go to the
Blackfeet and the Peigans with messages of peace from
the Snakes if they wish it."

Joe pointed to himself, Henri, and Dick as he spoke, and added, "We
three
do not belong to the camp of the fur-traders; we only, lodge with them
for
a time. The Great Chief of the white men has sent us to make peace
with the
Red-men, and to tell them that he desires to trade with them--to
exchange
hatchets, and guns, and blankets for furs."

This declaration interested the two chiefs greatly, and
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 Redskins 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
Redskins 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.

"Dun'no'," 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 farther 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 stampede!" cried Joe, springing to the assistance
of Pee-eye-em, whose favourite horses were picketed
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, etc., 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 stampede, 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 you 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 overrun 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 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-traders' camp, where he was picketed 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