 | CHAPTER XV. The Crayon miscellany |  |
15. CHAPTER XV.
The search for the Elk. Pawnee stories.
With the morning dawn, the prime hunters
of the camp were all on the alert, and set off in
different directions, to beat up the country for
game. The Captain's brother, Sergeant Bean,
was among the first, and returned before breakfast
with success, having killed a fat doe, almost
within the purlieus of the camp.
When breakfast was over, the Captain mounted
his horse, to go in quest of the elk which he
had wounded on the preceding evening; and
which, he was persuaded, had received its death
wound. I determined to join him in the search,
and we accordingly sallied forth together, accompanied
also by his brother, the sergeant,
and a lieutenant. Two rangers followed on
foot, to bring home the carcass of the doe which
the sergeant had killed. We had not ridden
far, when we came to where it lay, on the side
of a hill, in the midst of a beautiful woodland
scene. The two rangers immediately fell to
work, with true hunters' skill, to dismember it,
and prepare it for transportation to the camp,
while we continued on our course. We passed
and scattered forest trees, until we came to a
place where the long herbage was pressed
down with numerous elk beds. Here the Captain
had first roused the gang of elks, and, after
looking about diligently for a little while, he
pointed out their “trail,” the foot prints of which
were as large as those of horned cattle. He
now put himself upon the track, and went quietly
forward, the rest of us following him in Indian
file. At length he halted at the place where the
elk had been when shot at. Spots of blood on
the surrounding herbage showed that the shot
had been effective. The wounded animal had
evidently kept for some distance with the rest
of the herd, as could be seen by sprinklings of
blood here and there, on the shrubs and weeds
bordering the trail. These at length suddenly
disappeared. “Somewhere hereabout,” said
the Captain, “the elk must have turned off from
the gang. Whenever they feel themselves mortally
wounded, they will turn aside, and seek
some out-of-the-way place to die alone.”
There was something in this picture of the
last moments of a wounded deer, to touch the
sympathies of one not hardened to the gentle
disports of the chase; such sympathies, however,
are but transient. Man is naturally an
animal of prey; and, however changed by
for destruction. I found my ravenous and sanguinary
propensities daily growing stronger upon
the prairies.
After looking about for a little while, the
Captain succeeded in finding the separate trail
of the wounded elk, which turned off almost at
right angles from that of the herd, and entered
an open forest of scattered trees. The traces
of blood became more faint and rare, and occurred
at greater distances: at length they
ceased altogether, and the ground was so hard,
and the herbage so much parched and withered,
that the foot prints of the animal could no longer
be perceived.
“The elk must lie somewhere in this neighbourhood,”
said the Captain, “as you may know
by those turkey-buzzards wheeling about in the
air: for they always hover in that way above
some carcass. However, the dead elk cannot
get away, so let us follow the trail of the living
ones: they may have halted at no great distance,
and we may find them grazing, and get
another crack at them.”
We accordingly returned, and resumed the
trail of the elks, which led us a straggling course
over hill and dale, covered with scattered oaks.
Every now and then we would catch a glimpse
of a deer bounding away across some glade of
from his elk hunt by such inferior game. A
large flock of wild turkeys, too, were roused by
the trampling of our horses; some scampered
off as fast as their long legs could carry them:
others fluttered up into the trees, where they remained,
with outstretched necks, gazing at us.
The Captain would not allow a rifle to be discharged
at them, lest it should alarm the elk,
which he hoped to find in the vicinity. At length
we came to where the forest ended in a steep
bank, and the Red Fork wound its way below
us, between broad sandy shores. The trail descended
the bank, and we could trace it, with
our eyes, across the level sands, until it terminated
in the river, which, it was evident, the gang
had forded on the preceding evening.
“It is needless to follow on any further,”
said the Captain. “The elk must have been
much frightened, and, after crossing the river,
may have kept on for twenty miles without
stopping.”
Our little party now divided, the lieutenant
and sergeant making a circuit in quest of game,
and the Captain and myself taking the direction
of the camp. On our way, we came to a buffalo
track, more than a year old. It was not
wider than an ordinary foot-path, and worn deep
into the soil; for these animals follow each other
rangers on foot, hunting. They had wounded
an elk, but he had escaped; and in pursuing
him, had found the one shot by the Captain on
the preceding evening. They turned back, and
conducted us to it. It was a noble animal, as
large as a yearling heifer, and lay in an open
part of the forest, about a mile and a half distant
from the place where it had been shot.
The turkey-buzzards, which we had previously
noticed, were wheeling in the air above it. The
observation of the Captain seemed verified.
The poor animal, as life was ebbing away, had
apparently abandoned its unhurt companions,
and turned aside to die alone.
The Captain and the two rangers forthwith
fell to work, with their hunting-knives, to flay
and cut up the carcass. It was already tainted
on the inside, but ample collops were cut from
the ribs and haunches, and laid in a heap on the
outstretched hide. Holes were then cut along
the border of the hide, raw thongs were passed
through them, and the whole drawn up like a
sack, which was swung behind the Captain's
saddle. All this while, the turkey-buzzards were
soaring over head, waiting for our departure, to
swoop down and banquet on the carcass.
The wreck of the poor elk being thus dismantled,
the Captain and myself mounted our
two rangers resumed their hunting.
On reaching the camp, I found there our young
half-breed, Antoine. After separating from Beatte,
in the search after the stray horses on the
other side of the Arkansas, he had fallen upon
a wrong track, which he followed for several
miles, when he overtook old Ryan and his party,
and found he had been following their traces.
They all forded the Arkansas about eight
miles above our crossing place, and found their
way to our late encampment in the glen, where
the rear guard we had left behind was waiting
for them. Antoine, being well mounted, and
somewhat impatient to rejoin us, had pushed on
alone, following our trail, to our present encampment,
and bringing the carcass of a young bear
which he had killed.
Our camp, during the residue of the day, presented
a mingled picture of bustle and repose.
Some of the men were busy round the fires,
jerking and roasting venison and bear's meat,
to be packed up as a future supply. Some were
stretching and dressing the skins of the animals
they had killed; others were washing their
clothes in the brook, and hanging them on the
bushes to dry; while many were lying on the
grass, and lazily gossiping in the shade. Every
now and then a hunter would return, on horseback
or on foot, laden with game, or empty
deposited it at the Captain's fire, and then filed
off to their respective messes, to relate their
day's exploits to their companions. The game
killed at this camp consisted of six deer, one
elk, two bears, and six or eight turkeys.
During the last two or three days, since their
wild Indian achievement in navigating the river,
our retainers had risen in consequence among
the rangers; and now I found Tonish making
himself a complete oracle among some of the
raw and inexperienced recruits, who had never
been in the wilderness. He had continually a
knot hanging about him, and listening to his extravagant
tales about the Pawnees, with whom
he pretended to have had fearful encounters.
His representations, in fact, were calculated to
inspire his hearers with an awful idea of the
foe into whose lands they were intruding. According
to his accounts, the rifle of the white
man was no match for the bow and arrow of
the Pawnee. When the rifle was once discharged,
it took time and trouble to load it again,
and in the mean time the enemy could keep on
launching his shafts as fast as he could draw his
bow. Then the Pawnee, according to Tonish,
could shoot, with unerring aim, three hundred
yards, and send his arrow clean through and
through a buffalo; nay, he had known a Pawnee
shaft pass through one buffalo and wound
themselves from the shots of their enemy:
they would hang with one leg over the saddle,
crouching their bodies along the opposite side
of their horse, and would shoot their arrows
from under his neck, while at full speed!
If Tonish was to be believed, there was peril
at every step in these debateable grounds of the
Indian tribes. Pawnees lurked unseen among
the thickets and ravines. They had their scouts
and sentinels on the summit of the mounds that
command a view over the prairies, where they
lay crouched in the tall grass; only now and
then raising their heads to watch the movements
of any war or hunting party that might
be passing in lengthened line below. At night,
they would lurk round an encampment; crawling
through the grass, and imitating the movements
of a wolf, so as to deceive the sentinel
on the outpost, until, having arrived sufficiently
near, they would speed an arrow through his
heart, and retreat undiscovered. In telling his
stories, Tonish would appeal from time to time
to Beatte, for the truth of what he said; the
only reply would be a nod or shrug of the shoulders;
the latter being divided in mind between
a distaste for the gasconading spirit of his comrade,
and a sovereign contempt for the inexperience
of the young rangers in all that he considered
true knowledge
| CHAPTER XV. The Crayon miscellany | |