The Boy Hunters, Mayne Reid [best love novels of all time .TXT] 📗
- Author: Mayne Reid
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What had become of the female and the cub? Had both fallen by the shots fired at them? Neither had as yet made their appearance on the summit—for the boys from their perch could see every inch of its surface. They were still in the ravine then; but whether dead or alive could not be determined. The dog Marengo, by a wise instinct, had not attacked the bear, but had escaped to one edge of the table, where he was crouching and cowering with fear, taking care not to put himself in the way of being seen.
The young hunters were now in a worse situation than ever. They dared not venture out of the trees without the certainty of dropping into the jaws of the monster; and they were suffering pain as they sat straddled across the slender branches of the pines. Besides, they were thirsty—thirsty to an extreme degree. They had taken no water with them in the morning. The sun was fiercely hot; and, even while engaged in skinning the big-horns, they had been complaining for want of water. They now began to suffer from thirst, more than from any other cause. Should the bear remain for any length of time, what would become of them? They must either drop down to be at once torn to pieces, or perish slowly where they sat. These were the alternatives!
They could make no change in their situation. Their guns were upon the ground, where in their haste they had flung them. They dared not descend to recover them. They were utterly helpless; and could do nothing but await the result. As if to tantalise them, they now beheld for the first time the objects of their far expedition—the animals they had so long desired to come up with—the buffaloes! Away to the south-west a multitude of black bodies were seen upon the plain, like crowds of men in dark clothing. They were moving to and fro, now uniting in masses, and now separating like the squadrons of an irregular army. Miles of the green prairie were mottled by their huge dark forms, or hidden altogether from the view. They seemed to be moving northward, along the level meadows that stretched between the butte and the Llano Estacado. This proved to be the case; for in a few minutes the headmost had pushed forward on a line with the butte; and our young hunters could distinguish the shaggy, lion-shaped bodies of the bulls that formed the vanguard of the “gang.” Under other circumstances this would have been a glad sight indeed. As it was, it only served to render their situation more intolerable. The buffaloes were passing to the north. Even should they themselves escape, after a time they might not be able to overtake them; and although they could distinguish none that were white—for the main body was a great way off—it was highly probable that in so large a herd one or more of these would be found.
As all three continued to watch the black multitudes rolling past, an exclamation, or rather a shout of joy, was uttered by Basil. He was upon a tree that stood apart from the others and gave him an unobstructed view of the plains to the west.
“Voilà! yonder! yonder!” he cried: “see! in the middle of the drove! See, brothers!—it shines in the sun—white—white! Huzza!—huzza!”
Basil’s speech was scarcely coherent. Neither was that of his brothers, when they beheld the object to which he had alluded. It could be nothing else, all believed, than the object of their long wild hunt—a white buffalo. All three huzzaed loudly, and for a moment forgot the peril of their position. Their shouts started the grizzly monster below, who, lazily rising to his feet, once more commenced growling and shuffling about among the trees. The sight of him soon restored the hunters to a sense of the fearful realities that surrounded them.
For hours they sat upon their painful perch—now glancing downward at the fierce gaoler that watched unweariedly below—now gazing out upon the plain, where the dusky droves still continued to move. For hours the buffaloes kept passing northward, until the setting sun glanced redly from their brown bodies. Once or twice again the boys thought they saw white ones in the herd; but their eyes had grown dim with watching, and the pain which they endured now rendered them indifferent to aught else than their own misery. Despair had conquered hope—for they were choking with thirst—and death stared them in the face.
After a long while the bear again lay down, and placing his fore-paws over his head appeared once more to sleep. Basil could stand it no longer; and now resolved to make an effort to escape. At all events he would try to bring about some change in their painful situation.
Cautioning his brothers to remain silent, he slipped down from his tree; and, with the stealthy tread of a cat, crept over the ground in search of his rifle. He soon laid hands upon it; and then, returning to his tree, climbed up again. The shaking of the branches as he did so, awoke the bear; who sprang to his feet, and rushed towards the tree. Had he been a moment sooner, it would have been ill for Basil, for the snout of the animal, as he reared upward against the trunk, almost touched the boy’s feet. It was an “inch of a miss as good as a mile,” and Basil was saved. The next moment he was seated among the branches, and leisurely loading his rifle!
Strange to say, the bear appeared to comprehend this movement. As if aware of his danger, he kept out farther from the trees; and, while rambling about, now, for the first time, stumbled upon what remained of the carcasses of the big-horns. These he proceeded to tear up, and devour. He was still within range of the rifle, though not for a sure shot; but Basil, who knew he could load again, was determined either to force him farther off, or bring him within reach; and with this intent he took aim and fired. The bullet hit the bear in the fore-shoulder, for he was seen to turn his head and tear at the spot with his teeth, all the while growling with rage and pain. Strange to say, he still continued to devour the meat!
Again Basil loaded and fired as before. This time the animal received the shot about the head, which caused him to make fresh demonstrations of his fury. He dropped his prey, and galloped back among the trees, first clutching one and then another, making repeated efforts to drag them down. He at length came to Basil’s tree, and seized it in his fierce hug. This was exactly what the young hunter wanted. He had hastily reloaded, and as the bear stood upright under the branches, he leant downwards until the muzzle of his rifle almost touched the snout of the animal. Then came the report—a stream of fire was poured into the very face of the bear—and a crashing sound followed. As the smoke cleared off, the huge body was seen kicking and sprawling upon the ground. The leaden messenger had done its work. It had passed through the brain; and in a few seconds the shaggy monster lay motionless upon the earth.
The boys now dropped from the trees. François and Lucien ran for their guns, and all three having loaded with care, proceeded toward the ravine. They stayed not to examine the enemy that had been slain. Thirst urged them on, and they thought only of getting to the spring below. They were full of hope that the she-bear and her cub had been killed by their first fire, and that they would now find the road clear.
What was their disappointment when, on looking down the ravine, they saw the cub lying doubled up, near the bottom, and the old one standing sentry over it! The cub was evidently dead. So much the worse—as the mother would not now leave it for a moment, and both were directly in the path. The latter was moving backward and forward upon a ledge of rock, at intervals approaching the cub and tossing its body with her snout, and then uttering a low querulous moan, that was painful to listen to!
The hunters saw at once that their situation was as bad as ever. Their retreat was cut off by the infuriated mother, who might remain where she was for an indefinite time. Should they fire down upon her, and take the chances of once more escaping to the trees? This was an alternative which they had reason to dread. Their painful experience decided them against it. What then? Remain until after night-fall, and try to steal past in the darkness? Perhaps the bear might retire to her cave, and give them an opportunity to do so. But in the meantime they were dying of thirst!
At this moment a happy idea suggested itself to Lucien. He saw the cactus plants growing near. There were large globes of the echinocactus. He remembered having read that these often assuaged the thirst of the desert traveller. The plants were soon reached, and their succulent masses laid open by the knives of the hunters. The cool watery fibres were applied to their lips; and in a few minutes their thirst was alleviated and almost forgotten. Still the bear occupied the ravine, and so long as she remained there, there was no possible chance of their getting back to camp. They saw, however, that they could do nothing better than wait for the night, in hopes that the darkness might bring about something in their favour.
Night soon came on, but not darkness. It chanced to be a clear moonlight; and they saw at once that it would then be quite as perilous to go down the ravine as it had been during the day. They could hear the snorting and growling of the monster below; and they knew she still held the pass. Should they attempt to descend, she would discover them long before they could get down. She could hear them clambering among the rocks and bushes. The advantage would be hers, as she could attack them unawares. Besides, even had the coast been quite clear, they would have found it difficult to get down the steep descent in the night. They dared not attempt it. After much deliberation, therefore, they resolved to wait for the morning.
Throughout all the live-long night they kept awake. They heard their steeds neighing below—wondering, poor brutes, what had become of their masters. The hinny of Jeanette echoed wildly from the cliffs, and was answered by the bark and howl of the prairie-wolf. These sounds, together with the more ominous snort of the bear, kept sleep from the eyes of our adventurers. They dared not go to sleep, unless by perching themselves in the trees; as they knew not the moment the bear might come up to the summit. Sleeping upon the slender branch of a mountain pine is more painful than pleasant; and all three preferred keeping awake.
Morning broke at length. The first light showed that the shaggy sentinel was still at her post. She sat upon the same spot, as though she was guarding her dead offspring. The young hunters, but particularly Basil, began to grow impatient. They were hungry, though there were still left some fragments of the wild mutton, which they could have eaten. But they were thirsty as well. The juice of the cactus allayed, but did not quench, their thirst. They longed for a draught of cool water from the spring below. The buffaloes, too, were gone northward, “on the run.” They might never overtake them. They might never again have such an opportunity of procuring that for which
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