Chapter 10

"Remember," said Austin, as he urged his brothers to quicken their pace on their way to the cottage, "we have hardly heard any thing yet about buffaloes and grizzly bears, and other animals which are found in the woods and the prairie. Let us make haste, that we may have a long visit."

Brian and Basil, being almost as anxious as their brother to hear all about bears and buffaloes, quickened their pace as he desired them, so that no long period had passed, before the hunter, at the request of his youthful visitors, was engaged in giving them the desired account.

"The different animals and birds," said he, "that inhabit different countries, for the most part, roam backwards and forwards, according to the season. Creatures that love the cold move northerly in summer, and such as delight in a warmer clime move southerly in winter. It is, however, principally to obtain food that they remove from one place to another. I must here explain to you, that though I have, in common with most others who use these terms, spoken of buffaloes, the animal which abounds in the prairie is not properly the buffalo, but the bison."

_Austin._ But if they are bisons, why are they called buffaloes?

_Hunter._ That is a question that I hardly know how to answer. From whatever cause it may have arisen, certain it is, that the name of buffalo has become common; and, that being the case, it is used in conversation, and oftentimes in books, as being more easily understood.

_Brian._ What is the difference between a buffalo and a bison?

_Hunter._ A buffalo is an animal that abounds in Africa, resembling an ugly cow, with a body long, but rather low; and very long horns. But the bison stands very high in front, has a hump on the back part of the neck covered with long hair, short horns, and a profusion of long shaggy hair hanging from its head, neck and fore-legs.

_Austin._ Then a bison must look much fiercer than a buffalo.

_Hunter._ He does; and from the circumstance of his fore-parts standing high, while he carries his head low, he always appears as if he were about to run at you. Bisons abound throughout the whole of our country, west of the Mississippi; but the reckless way in which they are slaughtered, and the spread of civilization, are likely, in a few years, greatly to decrease their numbers. Indians suffer much from hunger, but they are very reckless when buffaloes are plentiful. On one occasion, when among the Minatarees, I witnessed a grand capture of buffaloes. It was effected by different parties taking different directions, and then gradually approaching each other. The herd was thus hemmed in on all sides, and the slaughter was terrible. The unerring rifle, the sharp spear and the winged arrow, had full employ; and so many buffaloes were slain, that, after taking their tongues and other choice parts of them for food, hundreds of carcasses were left for the prairie-wolves to devour. Thus it is that man, whether savage or civilized, too often becomes prodigal of the abundance he enjoys, and knows not the value of what he possesses, till taught by that want into which his thoughtless waste has plunged him.

_Austin._ Ay, they will soon kill all the buffaloes, if they go on in that manner.

_Hunter._ At present, they are to be seen on the prairie in droves of many thousands; the woods, also, abound with them; and often, in the heat of summer, an incalculable number of heads and horns are visible in the rivers, the bodies of the bisons being under the water.

_Brian._ What, because they are so hot?

_Hunter._ Yes: the bison suffers very much from heat. It is no uncommon thing to see a bison bull lay himself down in a puddle of water, and turn himself round and round in it, till he has half covered his body with mud. The puddle hole which he thus makes is called a bison or buffalo wallow. The puddle cools him while he is in it, and when he quits it, the mud plastered on his sides defends him from the burning heat of the sun.

_Basil._ What a figure a bison bull must cut, with his shaggy hair and his sides plastered all over with mud!

_Hunter._ Bears are often most formidable foes to the hunter; but there is this striking difference between the common bear and the grizzly bear, that while the former eats mostly vegetables, and will do his best to get out of your way, the latter eats nothing but flesh, and is almost sure to attack you. Hunters and Indians make it a rule never to fire at a grizzly bear, unless in self-defence: except in cases when they have a strong party, or can fire from a tree; for, when he is wounded, his fury knows no bounds.

_Austin._ How can you escape from a grizzly bear, if he is so very terrible?

_Hunter._ The common bear can climb a tree, as I have already told you; but the grizzly bear is no climber. If you have time to get up into a tree, you are safe: if not, you must reserve your shot till the animal is near you, that you may take a steady aim. You must then fight it out in the best way you can. Grizzly bears are sometimes of a very large size, measuring from nine to ten feet in length. It was on the Upper Missouri that I was once chased by one of these terrible fellows, and a narrow escape I had.

_Austin._ How was it? Tell us all about it.

_Hunter._ I had just fired off my rifle at a bird which I took for an eagle, little thinking how soon my wasted bullet (for I did not strike the bird) would be wanted in defence of my life. The crack of my piece reverberated from the green-topped bluffs that rose from the prairie; and I suppose it was this that brought Sir Bruin upon me. He came on with huge strides, and I had nothing but a hunting-knife to use in my defence, my discharged rifle being of no use. There was no tree near, so throwing down my piece, I drew my knife as a forlorn hope in my extremity.

_Austin._ A hunting-knife against a grizzly bear!

_Hunter._ When the huge monster was within a few yards of me, to my amazement, I heard the report of two rifles, and in the same instant my tremendous foe fell, with two bullets in his head. This timely assistance was rendered me by two of our party, who, having followed my track, were near me when I thought myself alone.

_Austin._ Never was any one in greater danger.

_Hunter._ I will tell you an anecdote that I have read of a common bear. A boy, about eight years old, was sent by his mother into the woods, to bring home the old cow. At the distance of somewhat more than half a mile, he found her, attended by some young cattle. He began to drive them home; but had not proceeded far, when a bear came out of the bushes, and seemed disposed to make his acquaintance.

The boy did not like his company; so he jumped upon the old cow's back, and held on by her horns. She set out at full speed, and the bear after her. The young cattle, lifting their tails in the air, brought up the rear. Thus they proceeded, the young ones behind frequently coming up to the bear, and giving him a thrust with their horns.

This compelled him to turn round, and thus the old cow, with her brave rider, got somewhat in advance. The bear then galloped on, and, approaching the boy, attempted to seize him; but the old cow cantered along, and finally brought the boy to his mother's house in safety. The bear, thinking he should not be welcome there, after approaching the house, turned about and scampered back to the forest. Sir Bruin knew when he was well off; a whole skin is the best covering a bear can have; but, if he ventures among mankind, he is likely enough to have it stripped over his ears.

_Austin._ That was a capital old cow, for she saved the boy's life.

_Basil._ But the young cattle helped her, for they pushed the bear with their horns.

_Brian._ Please to tell us about wild horses.

_Hunter._ The hordes or bands of wild horses that abound in some of the prairies, are supposed to be the offspring of Spanish horses, brought to Mexico by Europeans. They are extremely shy, keen in their sight and swift of foot, so that to come up with them, except by surprise, is no easy thing. I have seen them in great numbers from the brow of a bluff, or have peeped at them cautiously from a ravine.

_Austin._ What kind of horses are they; and of what colour?

_Hunter._ Some of them are fine animals, but in general they are otherwise. Stunted and coarse in appearance, they are of various colours--bay, chestnut, cream, gray, piebald, white and black, with long tails, fetlocks, top-knots and manes.

_Brian._ How do they catch them?

_Hunter._ In different ways. Sometimes a well-mounted Indian, armed with his rifle, follows a horde of horses, until he can get a fair shot at the best among them. He aims at the top of the neck, and if he succeeds in striking the high gristle there, it stuns the animal for the moment, when he falls to the ground without being injured. This is called _creasing_ a horse: but a bad marksman would kill, and not crease, the noble animal he seeks to subdue.

_Austin._ What other way is there of catching wild horses? for that seems to be a very bad one.

_Basil._ It is a very bad way. They ought not to shoot them.

_Hunter._ They are much more commonly taken with the _lasso_; which is a thong at least a dozen yards long, ending in a noose. This the Indians throw, at full gallop, over the head of the flying steed they wish to secure. Rarely do they miss their aim. When a horse is thus caught, the hunter leaps from his steed, and lets out the lasso gradually, choking his captive till he is obliged to stop: he then contrives to hopple or tie his fore-legs; to fasten the lasso round his lower jaw; to breathe in his nostrils, and to lead him home.

_Austin._ Breathe in his nostrils! Why, what does he do that for?

_Hunter._ Because experience has taught him, that it does much towards rendering his captive more manageable. It is said, that if an Indian breathes freely into the nostrils of a wild young buffalo on the prairie, the creature will follow him with all the gentleness and docility of a lamb.

_Brian._ Well! that does appear strange!

_Hunter._ There is one animal, which the Indians, the hunters and trappers sometimes meet with, that I have not mentioned. It is the cougar, or panther, or American lion; for it goes by all these names. Now and then it is to be seen in the thick forests of the west; but, being a sad coward, it is not so much dreaded as it otherwise would be.

_Brian._ I should not much like to meet a cougar.

_Hunter._ The common wolf of America is as big as a Newfoundland dog, and a sulky, savage-looking animal he is. So long as he can feed in solitary places he prefers to do so, but, when hunger-pressed, he attacks the fold; after which, Mr. Grizzly-skin loses no time in getting to a place of shelter, for he knows that should he outrun the stanch hounds that will soon be on his track, yet will a rifle ball outrun him.

_Brian._ Yes, yes; Mr. Grizzly-back is very cunning.

_Hunter._ The prairie-wolf is smaller than the common wolf. Prairie-wolves hunt after deer which they generally overtake; or keep close to a buffalo herd, feeding on such as die, or on those that are badly wounded in fighting with one another. The white, black, and clouded wolves are in the northern parts. There are many kinds of deer. I told you, that sometimes a deer-hunt took place on a large scale, by enclosing a circle, and driving the deer into it. In shooting antelopes, the hunter has only to stick up his ramrod in the ground in their neighbourhood, and throw over it his handkerchief; while he, with his rifle ready loaded, lies on the grass near at hand. The antelopes will soon approach the handkerchief to see what it is, when the hunter may make them an easy prey. The largest deer is the moose deer, which is often seven feet high. He is an awkward, overgrown-looking creature, with broad horns; but, awkward as he is, I question if any of you could outrun him. Mountain and valley, lake and river, seem alike to him, for he crosses them all. In the snow, to be sure, the unwearied and persevering hound will overtake him; but let him beware of his horns, or he will be flying head over heels in the air in a twinkling. The moose deer, however, cannot successfully strive with the hunter's rifle.

_Austin._ Nothing can stand against man.

_Hunter._ And yet what is man opposed to his Maker? His strength is perfect weakness! In a moment, in a twinkling of an eye, he "changes his countenance, and sends him away."

_Basil._ What other kinds of deer do Indians catch?

_Hunter._ The elk, with his large branching horns, who would despise a palace as a dwelling-place. Nothing less than the broad sky above his head, and the ground of the boundless forest beneath his feet, will satisfy him. After the elk, come the Virginia, or common deer, the wapiti deer, the black-tailed deer, and the cariboo. All these are the prey of the hunter. Their savoury flesh supplies him with food, and their soft skins are articles of merchandise. The mountain sheep may often be seen skipping from one ledge to another of the rugged rocks, and precipitous clayey cliffs of the western wilds, giving life to the solitary place, and interest to the picturesque beauty of lonely spots.

_Austin._ You have mentioned all the animals now, I think, that the hunter chases; for you spoke before about beavers, badgers, foxes, raccoons, squirrels and some others.

_Basil._ You have never told us, though, how they catch the musk-rat. I should like to know that.

_Hunter._ Well, then, I will tell you how they take the musk-rat, but must first speak about the prairie dog. Prairie dogs are a sort of marmot, but their bark is somewhat like that of a small dog. Rising from the level prairie, you may sometimes see, for miles together, small hillocks of a conical form, thrown up by the prairie dogs, which burrow some eight or ten feet in the ground. On a fine day, myriads of these dogs, not much unlike so many rats, run about, or sit barking on the tops of their hillocks. The moment any one approaches them, they disappear, taking shelter in their burrows.

_Basil._ Oh, the cunning little rogues.

_Hunter._ The musk-rat builds his burrow (which looks like a hay-stack) of wild rice stalks; so that, while he has a dry lodging, a hole at the bottom enables him, when he pleases, to pass into the shallow water beneath his burrow or lodge. In taking a musk-rat, a person strikes the top of the burrow, and out scampers the tenant within; but no sooner does he run through his hole into the shallow water, than he is instantly caught with a spear. Myriads of these little animals are taken in this manner for their fur.

_Brian._ They must be a good deal like prairie dogs, though one has his house on the land, and the other in the water.

_Hunter._ These wide prairies, on which roam bisons and horses and deer innumerable; and these shallow waters, where musk-rats abound, will probably, in succeeding years, assume another character. White men will possess them; civilized manners and customs will prevail, and Christianity spread from the Mississippi to the Rocky Mountains; for the kingdoms of the world, you know, are to become the kingdoms of our Lord and of his Christ.

_Austin._ You have told us a great deal indeed, to-day, about the prairies.

_Hunter._ I have already spoken of the prairie fires; I mean the burning grass set on fire by accident, or purposely, for the double advantage of obtaining a clearer path and an abundant crop of fresh grass; but I must relate an adventure of my own, of a kind not likely to be forgotten. So long as a prairie fire is confined to the high grounds, there is very little danger from it; for, in such situations, the grass being short, the fire never becomes large, though the line of flame is a long one. Birds and beasts retire before it in a very leisurely manner; but in plains where the grass is long, it is very different.

_Austin._ I should like to see one of those great, high, round bluffs on fire. There must be a fine bonfire then.

_Hunter._ There you are mistaken, for as I have already told you, the grass is short on the bluffs. To be sure, the sight of a bluff on fire, on a dark night, is very singular; for as you can only see the curved line of flame, the bluff being hidden by the darkness, so it seems as though the curved lines of flame were up in the air, or in the sky.

_Basil._ They must look very beautifully.

_Hunter._ They do: but when a fire takes place in a low bottom of long grass, sedge and tangled dry plants, more than six feet high; and when a rushing wind urges on the fiery ruin, flashing like the lightning and roaring like the thunder; the appearance is not beautiful, but terrible. I have heard the shrill war-whoop, and the clash of contending tomahawks in the fight, when no quarter has been given. I have witnessed the wild burst where Niagara, a river of waters, flings itself headlong down the Horseshoe Fall; and I have been exposed to the fury of the hurricane. But none of these are half so terrible as the flaming ocean of a long-grass prairie-fire.

_Austin._ Oh! it must be terrible.

_Hunter._ The trapper is bold, or he is not fit for his calling; the hunter is brave, or he could never wage war as he does with danger; and the Indian from his childhood is familiar with peril: yet the Indian, the hunter and the trapper tremble, as well they may, at a prairie-meadow fire. But I must relate my adventure.

_Basil._ I am almost afraid to hear it.

_Austin._ Poh! nonsense! It will never hurt you.

_Hunter._ A party of five of us, well mounted, and having with us our rifles and lances, were making the best of our way across one of the low prairie bottoms, where the thick coarse grass and shrubs, even as we sat on our horses, were often as high as our heads; when we noticed, every now and then, a flight of prairie hens, or grouse, rapidly winging their way by us. Two of our party were of the Blackfoot tribe; their names were Ponokah (elk) and Moeese (wigwam.) These Indians had struck into a buffalo trail, and we had proceeded for a couple of hours as fast as the matted grass and wild pea-vines would allow, when suddenly the wind that was blowing furiously from the east became northerly, and in a moment, Moeese, snuffing the air, uttered the words, "Pah kapa," (bad;) and Ponokah, glancing his eyes northward, added, "Eehcooa pah kaps," (very bad.)

_Austin._ I guess what was the matter.

_Brian._ And so do I.

_Hunter._ In another instant a rush was heard, and Ponokah, who was a little ahead, cried out, "Eneuh!" (buffalo!) when three bisons came dashing furiously along another trail towards us. No sooner did they set eyes on us, than they abruptly turned southward. By this time, we all understood that, to the north, the prairie was on fire; for the air smelt strong. Deer, and bisons, and other animals, sprang forward in different directions from the prairie, and a smoke, not very distant, like a cloud, was visible.

_Austin._ I hope you set off at full gallop.

_Hunter._ We were quite disposed to urge our horses onward; but the trail took a turn towards the burning prairie, and we were obliged to force our way into another, in doing which my horse got his feet entangled, and he fell, pitching me over his head some yards before him. I was not hurt by the fall, for the thick herbage protected me; but the worst of it was, that my rifle, which had been carelessly slung, fell from my shoulder among the long grass, and being somewhat confused by my fall, I could not find it.

_Brian._ You ought not to have stopped a moment.

_Hunter._ Perhaps not; but, to a hunter, a rifle is no trifling loss, and I could not make up my mind to lose mine. Time was precious, for the smoke rapidly increased; and both Ponokah and Moeese, who knew more about burning prairies than I did, and were therefore more alive to our danger, became very impatient. By the time my rifle was found, and we were ready to proceed, the fire had gained upon us in a crescent form, so that before and behind we were hemmed in. The only point clear of the smoke was to the south; but no trail ran that way, and we feared that, in forcing a road, another accident might occur like that which had befallen us.

_Austin._ I cannot think what you could do in such a situation.

_Hunter._ Our disaster had come upon us so unexpectedly, and the high wind had so hurried on the flaming storm, that there seemed to be no time for a moment's thought. Driven by necessity, we plunged into the thick grass to the south; but our progress was not equal to that of the fire, which was now fast approaching, blackening the air with smoke, and roaring every moment louder and louder. Our destruction seemed almost certain; when Ponokah, judging, I suppose, by the comparative thinness of the smoke eastward, that we were not far from the boundary of the prairie bottom, dashed boldly along a trail in that direction, in the face of the fire, crying out to us to follow. With the daring of men in extremity, we put our horses to their speed, broke through the smoke, fire, grass, and flame, and found ourselves almost instantly on a patch of ground over which the fire had passed; but, as the grass had evidently been scanty, we were free from danger. From a neighbouring bluff, which the smoke had before hidden from our view, we saw the progress of the flame--a spectacle that filled me with amazement. The danger we had escaped seemed increased by the sight of the fearful conflagration, and I know not whether terror, amazement, or thankfulness most occupied my mind.

_Austin._ That was, indeed, a narrow escape.

_Hunter._ As we stood on the bluff, dismounted, to gaze on the flying flames--which appeared in the distance like a huge fiery snake of some miles in length, writhing in torture--my wonder increased. The spectacle was fearful and sublime, and the conflagration nearest to us resembled the breakers of the deep that dash on a rocky shore, only formed of fire, roaring and destroying, preceded by thick clouds of smoke. Before then, I had been accustomed to sights and scenes of peril, and had witnessed the burning of short grass to some extent; but this was the first time I had been in such fearful danger--the first time I felt the awfulness of such a situation--the first time that I had really seen the prairie on fire!

_Brian._ There can be nothing in the world like a burning prairie, unless it be a burning mountain.

_Hunter._ A burning prairie, when we are near it, is a vast and overwhelming spectacle; but every rising and setting sun exhibits Almighty wisdom, power and goodness, on a scale infinitely beyond that of a hundred burning prairies. It is a good thing to accustom ourselves to regard the works of creation around us with that attention and wonder they are calculated to inspire, and especially to ponder on the manifestation of God's grace set forth in his holy word. When burning prairies and burning mountains shall be all extinguished; when rising and setting suns and all earthly glory shall be unknown; then shall the followers of the Redeemer gaze on the brighter glories of heaven, and dwell for ever with their Leader and their Lord.