Read Ebook: The Boy Hunters by Reid Mayne

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Ebook has 1035 lines and 96653 words, and 21 pages

"With money, monsieur?"

"Ah! mon Colonel! that is different."

"I will do my best, Colonel."

"Try at every fur-store in Saint Louis,--inquire among the hunters and trappers--you know where to find them. If these fail you, put an advertisement in the newspapers--advertise both in English and French. Go to Monsieur Choteau--anywhere. Spare no expense, but get me the skin."

"Make ready, then, to start. There may be a steamer going up before night. Hush! I hear one this very moment. It may be a Saint Louis boat."

All stood for a moment silent and listening. The 'scape of another boat coming up the river could be heard plain enough.

"It is a Saint Louis boat," said Lucien. "It is the `Belle of the West.'"

Lucien, who had a quick talent in that way, could tell, by the sound of their steam-pipe, almost every boat that plied upon the Mississippi. In half-an-hour the steamer hove in sight, and it was seen that he had again guessed correctly. It was a Saint Louis boat, and the "Belle of the West," too!

Hugot had not many preparations to make; and before the boat had arrived opposite to the house, he had arranged everything--received some further instructions, with a purse of money, from his master--and was off to Point Coupee, to meet the steamer at the landing.

GOING ON A GREAT HUNT.

"You have not got it?" interrogated the Colonel, in a faltering voice.

"No, Colonel," muttered Hugot, in reply.

"You tried everywhere?"

"Everywhere."

"You advertised in the papers?"

"In all the papers, monsieur."

"You offered a high price?"

"I did. It was to no purpose. I could not have procured a white buffalo's skin if I had offered ten times as much. I could not have got it for a thousand dollars."

"I would give five thousand!"

"It would have been all the same, monsieur. It is not to be had in Saint Louis."

"What says Monsieur Choteau?"

"On the prairies!" mechanically echoed his father.

"Yes, papa. Send Basil, and Lucien, and myself. We'll find you a white buffalo, I warrant you."

"Hurrah, Francois!" cried Basil; "you're right, brother. I was going to propose the same myself."

"No, no, my lads; you've heard what Monsieur Choteau says. You need not think of such a thing. It cannot be had. And I have written to the Prince, too. I have as good as promised him!"

As the old Colonel uttered these words, his countenance and gestures expressed disappointment and chagrin.

Lucien, who had observed this with a feeling of pain, now interposed.

"Come in, my lads; come in!" said their father, evidently pleased, and to some extent comforted, with the proposal of his boys. "Come in to the house--we can talk over it better when we have had our suppers."

And so saying, the old Colonel hobbled back into the house followed by his three boys; while Hugot, looking very jaded and feeling very hungry, brought up the rear.

The Colonel knew that he might safely trust them upon the prairies; and, in truth, it was with a feeling of pride, rather than anxiety, that he consented to the expedition. But there was still another motive that influenced him--perhaps the most powerful of all. He was inspired by the pride of the naturalist. He thought of the triumph he would obtain by sending such a rare contribution to the great museum of Europe. If ever, my young reader, you should become a naturalist, you will comprehend how strong this feeling may be; and with our hunter-naturalist it was so.

At first he proposed that Hugot should accompany them. This the boys would not hear of, and all three stoutly opposed it. They could not think of taking Hugot--their father would require Hugot at home--Hugot would be of no use to them, they said. They would do as well, if not better, without him.

Now you will wonder, my young friend, when you come to think of these Indians--when you come to consider that fifty warlike nations of them live and roam over the prairies--many of them sworn foes to white men, killing the latter wherever they may meet them, as you would a mad dog or a poisonous spider,--I say, when you consider these things, you will wonder that this old French or Corsican father should consent to let his sons go upon so dangerous an expedition. It seems unnatural, does it not? In fact, quite improbable, when we come to reflect that the Colonel dearly loved his three sons, almost as dearly as his own life. And yet one would say, he could hardly have found a readier plan to get rid of them, than thus to send them forth among savages. Upon what, then, did he rely for their safety? On their age? No. He knew the Indians better than that. He knew very well that their age would not be cared for, should they chance to fall in with any of the tribes hostile to the whites. It is true, that the savages might not scalp them on this account--being boys,--but they would be very certain to carry them into a captivity from which they might never return. Or did their father anticipate that the excursion should extend no farther than the country of some friendly tribe? He entertained no such idea. Had this been their plan, their errand would have been likely to prove fruitless. In a country of that sort they would have seen but little of the buffalo; for it is well-known that the buffaloes are only found in plenty upon those parts of the prairies termed "war grounds"--that is, where several tribes go to hunt, who are at war with each other. In fact, that is the reason why these animals are more numerous there than elsewhere, as the hunters are fewer, on account of the danger they incur of coming into collision with each other. In a territory which is exclusively in possession of any particular tribe, the buffaloes are soon killed or run off by incessant hunting. It is a fact, therefore, well-known among prairie-hunters, that wherever buffaloes are plenty there is plenty of danger as well, though the converse of this is not always true. On the neutral or "war grounds" of the Indians, you may meet with a friendly tribe one day, and on the next, or even within the next hour, you may fall in with a band of savages who will scalp you on sight.

The Colonel and Hugot stood for some moments watching them. When the boy hunters had reached the edge of the woods, all three reined up, turned in their saddles, and, taking off their hats, uttered a parting cheer. The Colonel and Hugot cheered in return. When the noise had subsided, the voice of Francois was heard shouting back,--

THE CAMP OF THE BOY HUNTERS.

Our young adventurers turned their faces westward, and were soon riding under the shadows of majestic woods. At this time there were few white settlements west of the Mississippi river. The small towns upon its banks, with here and there a settler's "clearing" or a squatter's cabin, were the only signs of civilisation to be met with. A single day's ride in a westerly direction would carry the traveller clear of all these, and launch him at once into the labyrinth of swamps and woods, that stretched away for hundreds of miles before him. It is true, there were some scattered settlements upon the bayous farther west, but most of the country between them was a wilderness.

In an hour or so our travellers had ridden clear of the settlements that surrounded Point Coupee, and were following the forest "trails," rarely travelled except by roving Indians, or the white hunters of the border country. The boys knew them well. They had often passed that way on former hunting expeditions.

I shall not detail too minutely the events that occurred along their line of march. This would tire you, and take up too much space. I shall take you at once to their first encampment, where they had halted for the night.

On the opposite or leeward side of the tent a fire was burning. It had not been long kindled, and crackled as it blazed. You could easily have told the strong red flame to be that of the shell-bark hickory--the best firewood--though dry sticks of some lighter wood had been used to kindle it. On each side of the fire a forked stick was stuck into the ground, with the forks at the top; and on these rested a fresh cut sapling, placed horizontally to serve as a crane. A two-gallon camp-kettle of sheet-iron was suspended upon it and over the fire, and the water in the kettle was just beginning to boil. Other utensils were strewed around. There was a frying-pan, some tin cups, several small packages containing flour, dried meat, and coffee; a coffee-pot of strong tin, a small spade, and a light axe, with its curved hickory shaft.

These were the inanimate objects of the picture. Now for the animate.

First, then, were our heroes, the three Boy Hunters--Basil, Lucien, Francois. Basil was engaged by the tent, driving in the pins; Lucien was attending to the fire which he has just kindled; while Francois was making the feathers fly out of a brace of wild pigeons he had shot on the way. No two of the three were dressed alike. Basil was all buckskin--except the cap, which was made from the skin of a raccoon, with the ringed-tail hanging over his shoulders like a drooping plume. He wore a hunting-shirt with fringed cape, handsomely ornamented with beads. A belt fastened it around his waist, from which was suspended his hunting-knife and sheath, with a small holster, out of which peeped the shining butt of a pistol. He wore deerskin leggings fringed down the seams, and mocassins upon his feet. His dress was just that of a backwoods' hunter, except that his cotton under-garments looked finer and cleaner, and altogether his hunting-shirt was more tastefully embroidered than is common among professional hunters.

Lucien's dress was of a sky-blue colour. It consisted of a half-blouse, half-hunting-shirt, of strong cottonade, with trousers of the same material. He had laced buskins on his feet, and a broad-brimmed Panama hat on his head. Lucien's dress was somewhat more civilised in its appearance than that of his elder brother. Like him though he had a leather belt, with a sheath and knife on one side; and, instead of a pistol, a small tomahawk on the other. Not that Lucien had set out with the intention of tomahawking anybody. No; he carried his little hatchet for cracking rocks, not skulls. Lucien's was a geological tomahawk.

Francois was still in roundabout jacket with trousers. He wore leggings over his trousers, and mocassins upon his feet, with a cloth cap set jauntily over his luxuriant curls. He, too, was belted with hunting-knife and sheath, and a very small pistol hung upon his left thigh.

Out near the middle of the glade were three horses picketed on lasso-ropes, so that they might not interfere with each other whilst browsing. They were very different in appearance. One was a large brown-black horse--a half-Arab--evidently endowed with great strength and spirit. That was Basil's horse, and deservedly a favourite. His name was "Black Hawk"--so called after the famous chief of the Sacs and Foxes, who was a friend of the old Colonel, and who had once entertained the latter when on a visit to these Indians. The second horse was a very plain one, a bay, of the kind known as "cot." He was a modest, sober animal, with nothing either of the hunter or warrior in his looks; but sleek withal, and in good condition, like a well-fed citizen. Hence his name, which was "Le Bourgeois." Of course he was ridden by the quiet Lucien. The third horse might have been termed a pony--if size be considered--as he was by far the smallest of the three. He was a horse, however, both in shape and character--one of that small but fiery breed taken by the Spanish conquerors to the New World, and now known throughout the western country as "mustangs." As I shall have reason to say more of these beautiful creatures by and by, I shall only state here, that the one in question was spotted like a pard, and answered to the name "Le Chat" --particularly when Francois called him, for he was Francois' horse.

A little apart from the horses was another animal, of a dirty slate colour, with some white marks along the back and shoulders. That was a true-bred Mexican mule, wiry and wicked as any of its race. It was a she-mule, and was called Jeanette. Jeanette was tethered beyond kicking distance of the horses; for between her and the mustang there existed no friendly feeling. Jeanette was the owner of the odd-looking saddle--the pack. Jeanette's duty was to carry the tent, the provisions, the implements, and utensils.

But one other living object might be noticed in the glade--the dog "Marengo." From his size and colour--which was tawny red--you might have mistaken him for a panther--a cougar. His long black muzzle and broad hanging ears gave him quite a different appearance, however; and told you that he was a hound. He was, in fact, a blood-hound, with the cross of a mastiff--a powerful animal. He was crouching near Francois, watching for the offal of the birds.

Now, young reader, you have before you a "night-camp" of the Boy hunters.

Francois soon finished dressing his pigeons, and plunged them into the boiling-water. A piece of dried meat was added, and then some salt and pepper, drawn from the store-bag, for it was the intention of Francois to make pigeon-soup. He next proceeded to beat up a little flour with water, in order to give consistency to the soup.

"What a pity," said he, "we have no vegetables!"

"Hold!" cried Lucien, who overheard him. "There appears to be a variety of green stuff in this neighbourhood. Let me see what can be done."

So saying, Lucien walked about the glade with his eyes bent upon the ground. He seemed to find nothing among the grass and herbs that would do; and presently he strayed off among trees, towards the banks of a little stream that ran close by. In a few minutes he was seen returning with both his hands full of vegetables. He made no remark, but flung them down before Francois. There were two species--one that resembled a small turnip, and, in fact, was the Indian turnip , while the other was the wild onion found in many parts of America.

And he proceeded with great glee to cut up the vegetables, and fling them into the steaming kettle.

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