“Harkee, old trapper,” interrupted Paul, pointing to a little distance, where the ground was drier, and the herbage had, in consequence, been less luxuriant; “just call them two horses.
Yonder lies another.”
“The boy is right! can it be, that the Tetons have been caught in their own snares?
Such things do happen; and here is an example to all evil-doers. Ay, look you here, this is iron; there have been some white inventions about the trappings of the beast—it must be so—it must be so—a party of the knaves have been skirting in the grass after us, while their friends have fired the prairie, and look you at the consequences; they have lost their beasts, and happy have they been if their own souls are not now skirting along the path, which leads to the Indian heaven.”
“They had the same expedient at command as yourself,” rejoined Middleton, as the party slowly proceeded, approaching the other carcass, which lay directly on their route.
“I know not that.
It is not every savage that carries his steel and flint, or as good a rifle-pan as this old friend of mine.
It is slow making a fire with two sticks, and little time was given to consider, or invent, just at this spot, as you may see by yon streak of flame, which is flashing along afore the wind, as if it were on a trail of powder.
It is not many minutes since the fire has passed here away, and it may be well to look at our primings, not that I would willingly combat the Tetons, God forbid! but if a fight needs be, it is always wise to get the first shot.”
“This has been a strange beast, old man,” said Paul, who had pulled the bridle, or rather halter of his steed, over the second carcass, while the rest of the party were already passing, in their eagerness to proceed; “a strange horse do I call it; it had neither head nor hoofs!”
“The fire has not been idle,” returned the trapper, keeping his eye vigilantly employed in profiting by those glimpses of the horizon, which the whirling smoke offered to his examination. “It would soon bake you a buffaloe whole, or for that matter powder his hoofs and horns into white ashes.
Shame, shame, old Hector: as for the captain’s pup, it is to be expected that he would show his want of years, and I may say, I hope without offence, his want of education too; but for a hound, like you, who have lived so long in the forest afore you came into these plains, it is very disgraceful, Hector, to be showing your teeth, and growling at the carcass of a roasted horse, the same as if you were telling your master that you had found the trail of a grizzly bear.”
“I tell you, old trapper, this is no horse; neither in hoofs, head, nor hide.”
“Anan!
Not a horse?
Your eyes are good for the bees and for the hollow trees, my lad, but—bless me, the boy is right!
That I should mistake the hide of a buffaloe, scorched and crimpled as it is, for the carcass of a horse!
Ah’s me!
The time has been, my men, when I would tell you the name of a beast, as far as eye could reach, and that too with most of the particulars of colour, age, and sex.”
“An inestimable advantage have you then enjoyed, venerable venator!” observed the attentive naturalist. “The man who can make these distinctions in a desert, is saved the pain of many a weary walk, and often of an enquiry that in its result proves useless.
Pray tell me, did your exceeding excellence of vision extend so far as to enable you to decide on their order, or genus?”
“I know not what you mean by your orders of genius.”
“No!” interrupted the bee-hunter, a little disdainfully for him, when speaking to his aged friend; “now, old trapper, that is admitting your ignorance of the English language, in a way I should not expect from a man of your experience and understanding.
By order, our comrade means whether they go in promiscuous droves, like a swarm that is following its queen-bee, or in single file, as you often see the buffaloes trailing each other through a prairie.
And as for genius, I’m sure that is a word well understood, and in every body’s mouth.
There is the congress-man in our district, and that tonguey little fellow, who puts out the paper in our county, they are both so called, for their smartness; which is what the Doctor means, as I take it, seeing that he seldom speaks without some considerable meaning.”
When Paul finished this very clever explanation he looked behind him with an expression, which, rightly interpreted, would have said—“You see, though I don’t often trouble myself in these matters, I am no fool.”
Ellen admired Paul for anything but his learning.
There was enough in his frank, fearless, and manly character, backed as it was by great personal attraction, to awaken her sympathies, without the necessity of prying into his mental attainments.
The poor girl reddened like a rose, her pretty fingers played with the belt, by which she sustained herself on the horse, and she hurriedly observed, as if anxious to direct the attentions of the other listeners from a weakness, on which her own thoughts could not bear to dwell—
“And this is not a horse, after all?”
“It is nothing more, nor less, than the hide of a buffaloe,” continued the trapper, who had been no less puzzled by the explanation of Paul, than by the language of the Doctor; “the hair is beneath; the fire has run over it as you see; for being fresh, the flames could take no hold.
The beast has not been long killed, and it may be that some of the beef is still hereaway.”
“Lift the corner of the skin, old trapper,” said Paul, with the tone of one, who felt, as if he had now proved his right to mingle his voice in any council; “if there is a morsel of the hump left, it must be well cooked, and it shall be welcome.”
The old man laughed, heartily, at the conceit of his companion.
Thrusting his foot beneath the skin, it moved.
Then it was suddenly cast aside, and an Indian warrior sprang from its cover, to his feet, with an agility, that bespoke how urgent he deemed the occasion.
CHAPTER XXIV
I would it were bed-time, Hal, and all well.
—Shakspeare.
A second glance sufficed to convince the whole of the startled party, that the young Pawnee, whom they had already encountered, again stood before them.
Surprise kept both sides mute, and more than a minute was passed in surveying each other, with eyes of astonishment, if not of distrust.
The wonder of the young warrior was, however, much more tempered and dignified than that of his Christian acquaintances.
While Middleton and Paul felt the tremor, which shook the persons of their dependant companions, thrilling through their own quickened blood, the glowing eye of the Indian rolled from one to another, as if it could never quail before the rudest assaults.
His gaze, after making the circuit of every wondering countenance, finally settled in a steady look on the equally immovable features of the trapper.
The silence was first broken by Dr.
Battius, in the ejaculation of—“Order, primates; genus, homo; species, prairie!”
“Ay—ay—the secret is out,” said the old trapper, shaking his head, like one who congratulated himself on having mastered the mystery of some knotty difficulty. “The lad has been in the grass for a cover; the fire has come upon him in his sleep, and having lost his horse, he has been driven to save himself under that fresh hide of a buffaloe.
No bad invention, when powder and flint were wanting to kindle a ring.
I warrant me, now, this is a clever youth, and one that it would be safe to journey with! I will speak to him kindly, for anger can at least serve no turn of ours. My brother is welcome again,” using the language, which the other understood; “the Tetons have been smoking him, as they would a racoon.”