University of Virginia Library

28. CHAPTER XXVIII.

On the following morning we were rejoined
by the rangers who had remained at the last encampment,
to seek for the stray horses. They
had tracked them for a considerable distance
through bush and brake, and across streams,
until they found them cropping the herbage on
the edge of a prairie. Their heads were in the
direction of the fort, and they were evidently
grazing their way homeward, heedless of the
unbounded freedom of the prairie so suddenly
laid open to them.

About noon the weather held up, and I observed
a mysterious consultation going on between
our half-breeds and Tonish: it ended in
a request that we would dispense with the services
of the latter for a few hours, and permit
him to join his comrades in a grand foray. We
objected that Tonish was too much disabled by
aches and pains for such an undertaking; but
he was wild with eagerness for the mysterious
enterprise, and, when permission was given him,
seemed to forget all his ailments in an instant.

In a short time the trio were equipped and on

horseback; with rifles on their shoulders and
handkerchiefs twisted round their heads, evidently
bound for a grand scamper. As they
passed by the different lodges of the camp, the
vainglorious little Frenchman could not help
boasting to the right and left, of the great things
he was about to achieve; though the taciturn
Beatte, who rode in advance, would every now
and then check his horse, and look back at him
with an air of stern rebuke. It was hard, however,
to make the loquacious Tonish play “Indian.”

Several of the hunters, likewise, sallied forth,
and the prime old woodman, Ryan, came back
early in the afternoon, with ample spoil, having
killed a buck and two fat does. I drew near
to a group of rangers that had gathered round
him as he stood by the spoil, and found they
were discussing the merits of a stratagem sometimes
used in deer hunting. This consists in
imitating, with a small instrument called a bleat,
the cry of the fawn, so as to lure the doe within
reach of the rifle. There are bleats of various
kinds, suited to calm or windy weather,
and to the age of the fawn. The poor animal,
deluded by them, in its anxiety about its young,
will sometimes advance close up to the hunter.
“I once bleated a doe,” said a young hunter,
“until it came within twenty yards of me, and

presented a sure mark. I levelled my rifle three
times, but had not the heart to shoot, for the
poor doe looked so wistfully, that it in a manner
made my heart yearn. I thought of my own
mother, and how anxious she used to be about
me when I was a child; so to put an end to the
matter, I gave a halloo, and started the doe out
of rifle shot in a moment.”

“And you did right,” cried honest old Ryan.
“For my part, I never could bring myself to
bleating deer. I've been with hunters who had
bleats, and have made them throw them away.
It is a rascally trick to take advantage of a mother's
love for her young.”

Towards evening, our three worthies returned
from their mysterious foray. The tongue of
Tonish gave notice of their approach, long before
they came in sight; for he was vociferating
at the top of his lungs, and rousing the attention
of the whole camp. The lagging gait and reeking
flanks of their horses, gave evidence of hard
riding; and, on nearer approach, we found them
hung round with meat, like a butcher's shambles.
In fact they had been scouring an immense
prairie that extended beyond the forest, and
which was covered with herds of buffalo. Of
this prairie, and the animals upon it, Beatte had
received intelligence a few days before, in his
conversation with the Osages; but had kept the

information a secret from the rangers, that he
and his comrades might have the first dash at
the game. They had contented themselves with
killing four; though, if Tonish might be believed,
they might have slain them by scores.

These tidings, and the buffalo meat brought
home in evidence, spread exultation through the
camp, and every one looked forward with joy
to a buffalo hunt on the prairies. Tonish was
again the oracle of the camp, and held forth by
the hour to a knot of listeners, crouched round
the fire, with their shoulders up to their ears.
He was now more boastful than ever of his skill
as a marksman. All his want of success in the
early part of our march, he attributed to being
“out of luck,” if not “spell bound;” and finding
himself listened to with apparent credulity,
gave an instance of the kind, which he declared
had happened to himself, but which was evidently
a tale picked up among his relations, the
Osages.

According to this account, when about fourteen
years of age, as he was one day hunting,
he saw a white deer come out from a ravine.
Crawling near to get a shot, he beheld another
and another come forth, until there were seven,
all as white as snow. Having crept sufficiently
near, he singled one out and fired, but without effect;
the deer remained unfrightened. He

loaded and fired again, and again he missed
Thus he continued firing and missing until all
his ammunition was expended, and the deer remained
without a wound. He returned home
despairing of his skill as a marksman, but was
consoled by an old Osage hunter. These white
deer, said he, have a charmed life, and can only
be killed by bullets of a particular kind.

The old Indian cast several balls for Tonish,
but would not suffer him to be present on the occasion,
nor inform him of the ingredients and
mystic ceremonials.

Provided with these balls, Tonish again set
out in quest of the white deer, and succeeded
in finding them. He tried at first with ordinary
balls, but missed as before. A magic ball, however,
immediately brought a fine buck to the
ground. Whereupon the rest of the herd immediately
disappeared and were never seen
again.

Oct. 29. The morning opened gloomy and
lowering; but, towards eight o'clock the sun
struggled forth and lighted up the forest, and the
notes of the bugle gave signal to prepare for
marching. Now began a scene of bustle and
clamour, and gaiety. Some were scampering
and brawling after the horses, some were riding
in bare backed, and driving in the horses of their
comrades. Some were stripping the poles of

the wet blankets that had served for shelters;
others packing up with all possible despatch,
and leading the baggage horses as they arrived,
while others were cracking off their damp rifles
and charging them afresh, to be ready for the
sport.

About ten o'clock, we began our march. I
loitered in the rear of the troop as it forded the
turbid brook, and defiled through the labyrinths
of the forest. I always felt disposed to linger
until the last straggler disappeared among the
trees and the distant note of the bugle died upon
the ear, that I might behold the wilderness relapsing
into silence and solitude. In the present
instance, the deserted scene of our late
bustling encampment had a forlorn and desolate
appearance. The surrounding forest had been
in many places trampled into a quagmire. Trees
felled and partly hewn in pieces, and scattered
in huge fragments; tent poles stripped of their
covering; smouldering fires, with great morsels
of roasted venison and buffalo meat, standing in
wooden spits before them, hacked and slashed
by the knives of hungry hunters; while around
were strewed the hides, the horns, the antlers
and bones of buffaloes and deer, with uncooked
joints, and unplucked turkeys, left behind with
that reckless improvidence and wastefulness
which young hunters are apt to indulge when in

a neighbourhood where game abounds. In the
mean time a score or two of turkey buzzards, or
vultures were already on the wing, wheeling
their magnificent flight high in the air, and preparing
for a descent upon the camp as soon as
it should be abandoned.