“’Tis vinaigre. All de sugare in de pack would not make more sweeter one bite of it.”
Dick was obliged to confess the dish a failure, so it was thrown out after having been offered to Crusoe, who gave it one sniff and turned away in silence. Then they mounted and resumed their journey.
At this place mosquitoes and horse-flies troubled our hunters and their steeds a good deal. The latter—especially were very annoying to the poor horses. They bit them so much that the blood at last came trickling down their sides. They were troubled also, once or twice, by cockchafers and locusts, which annoyed them, not indeed by biting, but by flying blindly against their faces, and often narrowly missed hitting them in the eyes. Once particularly they were so bad, that Henri in his wrath opened his lips to pronounce a malediction on the whole race, when a cockchafer flew straight into his mouth, and, to use his own forcible expression, “nearly knocked him off de hoss.” But these were minor evils, and scarcely cost the hunters a thought.
CHAPTER TWELVE.
Wanderings on the prairie—A war-party—Chased by Indians—A bold leap for life.
For many days the three hunters wandered over the trackless prairie in search of a village of the Sioux Indians, but failed to find one, for the Indians were in the habit of shifting their ground, and following the buffalo. Several times they saw small isolated bands of Indians, but these they carefully avoided, fearing they might turn out to be war-parties, and if they fell into their hands the white men could not expect civil treatment, whatever nation the Indians might belong to.
During the greater portion of this time they met with numerous herds of buffalo and deer, and were well supplied with food, but they had to cook it during the day, being afraid to light a fire at night while Indians were prowling about.
One night they halted near the bed of a stream which was almost dry. They had travelled a day and a night without water, and both men and horses were almost choking, so that when they saw the trees on the horizon which indicated the presence of a stream, they pushed forward with almost frantic haste.
“Hope it’s not dry,” said Joe anxiously as they galloped up to it. “No, there’s water, lads,” and they dashed forward to a pool that had not yet been dried up. They drank long and eagerly before they noticed that the pool was strongly impregnated with salt. Many streams in those parts of the prairies are quite salt, but fortunately this one was not utterly undrinkable, though it was very unpalatable.
“We’ll make it better, lads,” said Joe, digging a deep hole in the sand with his hands, a little below the pool. In a short time the water filtered through, and though not rendered fresh, it was, nevertheless, much improved.
“We may light a fire to-night, d’ye think?” inquired Dick; “we’ve not seed Injuns for some days.”
“Pr’aps ’twould be better not,” said Joe, “but I daresay we’re safe enough.”
A fire was therefore lighted in as sheltered a spot as could be found, and the three friends bivouacked as usual. Towards dawn they were aroused by an angry growl from Crusoe.
“It’s a wolf likely,” said Dick, but all three seized and cocked their rifles nevertheless.
Again Crusoe growled more angrily than before, and springing out of the camp snuffed the breeze anxiously.
“Up, lads; catch the nags! There’s something in the wind, for the dog niver did that afore.”
In a few seconds the horses were saddled and the packs secured.
“Call in the dog,” whispered Joe Blunt; “if he barks they’ll find out our whereabouts.”
“Here, Crusoe, come—”
It was too late; the dog barked loudly and savagely at the moment, and a troop of Indians came coursing over the plain. On hearing the unwonted sound they wheeled directly and made for the camp.
“It’s a war-party; fly, lads; nothin’ ’ll save our scalps now but our horses’ heels,” cried Joe.
In a moment they vaulted into the saddle, and urged their steeds forward at the utmost speed. The savages observed them, and with an exulting yell dashed after them. Feeling that there was now no need of concealment, the three horsemen struck off into the open prairie, intending to depend entirely on the speed and stamina of their horses. As we have before remarked, they were good ones, but the Indians soon proved that they were equally well if not better mounted.
“It’ll be a hard run,” said Joe in a low, muttering tone, and looking furtively over his shoulder. “The varmints are mounted on wild horses, leastways they were wild not long agone. Them chaps can throw the lasso and trip a mustang as well as a Mexican. Mind the badger holes, Dick. Hold in a bit, Henri, yer nag don’t need drivin’—a foot in a hole just now would cost us our scalps. Keep down by the creek, lads.”
“Hah! how dey yell,” said Henri in a savage tone, looking back, and shaking his rifle at them—an act that caused them to yell more fiercely than ever. “Dis old pack-hoss give me moche trobel.”
The pace was now tremendous. Pursuers and pursued rose and sank on the prairie billows as they swept along, till they came to what is termed a “dividing ridge,” which is a cross wave, as it were, which cuts the others in two, thus forming a continuous level. Here they advanced more easily, but the advantage was equally shared with their pursuers, who continued the headlong pursuit with occasional yells, which served to show the fugitives that they at least did not gain ground.
A little to the right of the direction in which they were flying a blue line was seen on the horizon. This indicated the existence of trees to Joe’s practised eyes; and feeling that if the horses broke down they could better make a last manful stand in the wood than on the plain he urged his steed towards it. The savages noticed the movement at once, and uttered a yell of exultation, for they regarded it as an evidence that the fugitives doubted the strength of their horses.
“Ye haven’t got us yet,” muttered Joe, with a sardonic grin. “If they get near us, Dick, keep yer eyes open, an’ look out for yer neck, else they’ll drop a noose over it; they will, afore ye know they’re near, an’ haul ye off like a sack.”
Dick nodded in reply, but did not speak, for at that moment his eye was fixed on a small creek ahead which they must necessarily leap or dash across. It was lined with clumps of scattered shrubbery, and he glanced rapidly for the most suitable place to pass. Joe and Henri did the same, and having diverged a little to the different points chosen, they dashed through the shrubbery, and were hid from each other’s view. On approaching the edge of the stream, Dick found to his consternation that the bank was twenty feet high opposite him, and too wide for any horse to clear. Wheeling aside without checking speed, at the risk of throwing his steed, he rode along the margin of the stream for a few hundred yards until he found a ford—at least such a spot as might be cleared by a bold leap. The temporary check, however, had enabled an Indian to gain so close upon his heels, that his exulting yell sounded close in his ear.
With a vigorous bound his gallant little horse went over. Crusoe could not take it, but he rushed down the one bank and up the other, so that he only lost a few yards. These few yards, however, were sufficient to bring the Indian close upon him as he cleared the stream at full gallop. The savage whirled his lasso swiftly round for a second, and in another moment Crusoe uttered a tremendous roar as he was tripped up violently on the plain.
Dick heard the cry of his faithful dog, and turned quickly round, just in time to see him spring at the horse’s throat, and bring both steed and rider down upon him. Dick’s heart leaped to his throat. Had a thousand savages been rushing on him, he would have flown to the rescue of his favourite; but an unexpected obstacle came in the way. His fiery little steed, excited by the headlong race and the howls of the Indians, had taken the bit in his teeth and was now unmanageable. He tore