Ellis Edward Sylvester
Through Apache Land

CHAPTER XXIV.
THE BUFFALOES

The moon was now well up in the sky, and the members of the party were enabled to discern objects at a greater distance than at any time since starting. When Tom Hardynge announced that they had passed through this spur of mountains, the three instinctively turned their eyes to the westward, where the prairie stretched away until it vanished in the gloom.

"There's a clean hundred miles or more of level plain," added the hunter. "I've traveled it many a time and I ought to know."

"You're right," said Dick. "That's a good sweep of prairie, and we ought to make good time over it, for our horses have had a long rest."

"There's only one thing that troubles me," ventured Ned Chadmund, when the heads of all their animals were turned westward; "I'm so hungry and faint that I can hardly sit on my horse."

"That's bad," said Tom, feelingly. "I never thought of that when we had a good chance among the mountains to fetch down some game. We ain't apt to run agin anythin' in the hash line while riding along on the prairie; but we'll try it, and if we don't we'll turn off to a little spot where I know we shall hit it."

Ned expressed his willingness to do this, and the company started. Instead of going in Indian file, as they had done while among the mountains, they rode side by side at an easy swinging gallop, the prairie lightening up as they advanced, and the surface continuing of the same impact character, which rendered it the most favorable possible for horseback riding. To one who, like the boy, had tramped and trudged along until scarcely able to stand, this change was of the most pleasing character. He felt comfortable and anxious to ride ahead for hours, the only drawback being that gnawing hunger, that weary faintness, which could only be dissipated by food.

Occasionally, while riding along in this manner, the three would halt and listen, and then, when certain that they heard nothing, move on again. This was repeated several times, until the two hunters remained motionless longer than usual. When Ned asked the cause of this, Tom replied by asking him whether he heard anything. He answered that he did not.

"I hear it," added the scout, as he dismounted and applied his ear to the ground.

"What do you make it?" inquired Dick.

"Can't tell."

Hardynge remained standing beside his steed for several minutes, looking off to the southward, and then he knelt down and bent his ear to the ground again.

"It is off yonder," he added, pointing to the southward, and leaping at the same time upon the back of his mustang.

Ned listened to catch some explanation; but at this interesting juncture, for some reason only known to themselves, the two men began talking in the Indian tongue. It was interesting to hear their gutteral exclamations, but it would have been much more interesting could he have understood what they were saying, and to know why it was, when talking, that they laughed and looked meaningly toward him. The lad affected not to notice all this, although it piqued his curiosity not a little.

A half mile more was ridden at a leisurely gait, when all three drew up their mustangs, and Dick Morris looked meaningly at their young comrade.

"Do you hear anything now?"

Yes, there could be no mistaking it, faint though it was. All three sat motionless and listened. At first, it might have been taken for the far-off rumble of thunder – a fluttering, distant rattle, such as is occasionally heard during the hot summer months. It was not exactly of that character, either, being more like a continuous rattle, coming from some point many miles away.

"What do you suppose it is?" asked Tom, of the lad.

"I never heard anything like it before. What is it?"

"Does it sound like the tramp of animals?"

"Not much, it seems to me. It can't be that."

"That's just what it is."

Ned started.

"So it is – so it is. I can notice it now. I hear the sound of horses hoofs on the prairie. The sound is growing more distinct, too, and they must be coming this way, Tom. Is that so?"

"That's just what's the matter. We'll see 'em all inside of half an hour, unless we turn tail and run."

"Let's do it, then, for there can't be much time to spare."

The hunters showed no disposition to flee from the danger approaching, and Ned began to grow alarmed.

"Why do you stay here?" he asked. "If your horses are so fleet that no one can catch them, what is the use of letting them do it?"

"Don't get scart, my boy," returned Tom Hardynge. "We'll take care of you."

He much preferred that they should all take care of themselves by giving their animals the rein and permitting the Apaches to make no nearer approach. But the scouts were obstinate and remained as motionless as statues. The tramping of myriad feet came nearer and nearer, until the sound partook of one general, thunderous undertone of the most trying character to the lad. It seemed to him so much like suicide – this waiting for a terrible danger as it steadily approached – that he was strongly tempted to start his horse away on his own account.

"Look!" called out Morris, pointing toward the southwest.

Following the direction indicated, the lad saw what appeared to be a heavy cloud lying low down in the horizon, but creeping slowly upward, like the sulphurous vapor that sometimes hovers over a battle field.

"What is it?" he asked, terrified, knowing that it was not the presage of a storm such as sometimes sweeps over the prairies.

There was something strange and unnatural in its appearance, accompanied, as it was, by the tremulous, thunderous rumbling. By and by, as this uproar came nearer and nearer, a still more curious sight presented itself. The prairie seemed agitated, trembling and quivering with a peculiar, wave-like motion, such as the ocean shows when it is subsiding after a severe storm. There was a sea, a living sea, spreading tumultuously over the plain. Dark, heaving masses were constantly verging nearer, as they moved rapidly toward the northeast. Suddenly light broke in upon the mind of Ned Chadmund.

"I know what it is!" he exclaimed. "They are buffaloes."

"Correct," assented Tom, with a laugh. "They are passing pretty close, but we're out of their way."

The buffaloes surged so near to where the three horsemen stood that more than once Ned started with a fear that they would be overwhelmed; but the hunters showed such calmness and self-possession that he was reassured. All at once a furious trampling was heard, and two of the animals that had become separated from the others in some way, dashed directly by the horsemen and out upon the prairie.

"Now, Ned," called out Tom; "there's your chance! Take that head one! He will make you a good supper if you can fetch him down!"

The lad and his animal were seized with a sudden inspiration seemingly at the same time. Just as the heart of the young hunter swelled with a wild desire to bring down the noble game, the mustang bounded away in pursuit of the very buffalo which had been indicated by the trapper. As the rider saw himself drawing rapidly near the huge body, lumbering awkwardly but rapidly along, he was seized with a fluttering which, perhaps was natural, but which, unless overcome, was fatal to any hopes of procuring any supper. The mustang drew steadily nearer, Ned's agitation increasing every minute, until pursuer and pursued were running side by side.

This was the critical moment when the rider should have fired, and when the horse had been taught to expect him to do so; but when our hero raised the heavy Indian gun to his shoulder, his trembling, together with the jolting of his mustang, now upon a dead run, told him that it would be useless to fire, when the only chance of hitting his prey was by the merest accident. Accordingly, he lowered his gun, in the hopes of quieting his nerves, so as to bring himself up to the self-appointed task. As he did so, his horse began shying off from the buffalo. He was afraid of the horns of the enraged creature, and having given him all the opportunity he could expect, he was not willing to keep him company any longer. The paths continued to diverge until they were twenty yards apart, when the mustang appeared to think all danger was passed. By this time Ned Chadmund felt that he was master of himself, and he turned the head of his horse toward the immense fugitive, still gliding forward at the same terrific rate.

"I'll fetch him this time," he muttered, with a determined air.

CHAPTER XXV.
ALONE AGAIN

The mustang, trained as he was to this sort of hunting, steadily drew up again to the buffalo, which was plunging forward with unabated speed, while Ned held his rifle ready to fire whenever the critical moment should come. He concluded that the proper place at which to aim was the head, and, drawing his gun to his shoulder, he did not hesitate, although he knew the aim was anything but a good one. It struck the bison beyond all question, but did no more than irritate him; for, without any other warning than a sudden lowering of the head, he wheeled, and turned directly upon the horse, with the evident purpose of disemboweling him.

But the latter had seen this sort of business before, and was prepared for it.

Without attempting to turn to the one side or the other, or to check his speed in the least, he made a terrific flying leap upward, going clear over the head of the buffalo, landing upon the other side, and continuing his flight at his leisure, as it may be said.

This was a clever trick of the mustang, but it proved the undoing of his rider, who had no other saddle than the Indian blanket strapped to the horse's back. This was good enough, except in such a sudden emergency as the present, when Ned was entirely unprepared for it. It was done in a twinkling, the end of it being that he found himself lying upon the green sward of the prairie, considerably bruised, and with horse and buffalo rapidly speeding from view.

"This is a go," said the lad, rising to his feet and looking about him. "I don't see where the fun of buffalo hunting comes in."

During the minutes of excitement when the mustang was coursing with such speed over the prairie, the rider had no idea of the direction taken, nor could he conjecture how far he had gone; but the result was that he was separated by a much greater distance than he supposed from his friends. Ned stood and gazed carefully about him. Off to the west were the dust, and thousands upon thousands of buffaloes. The latter were too far removed to be distinguished, but that tramping and the heavy cloud indicated where the mass of life was plunging tumultuously forward toward some destination unknown even to themselves. Nothing was to be seen of the hunters. They had sent the lad off on this hunt on purpose to give him a taste of buffalo hunting, not supposing, of course, that any accident would result.

"What shall I do?" was the question the boy asked himself, as he stood, rifle in hand, and looked around him. "If there was some way in which I could get a good supper, I wouldn't mind this camping out, for Tom and Dick will be sure to find me in the morning."

Looking toward the north, he fancied that he dimly discerned the dark outline of something which resembled a grove of trees, and he turned his footsteps in that direction.

"If they are trees," he reflected, as he trudged along, "it's more than likely there's water there, and now that I've got a gun, I've some chance of shooting something; and that reminds me of poor Corporal Hugg's warning, always to reload my gun the first thing after firing it."

He had enough sense to carry out this resolution on the spot, and then he resumed his journey in the direction of the object that had attracted his attention. A short distance further he was pleased to find his first impression correct. He was approaching a clump of trees where he could rest with a much greater sense of security than upon the open prairie. Thoroughly weary and worn out, faint with hunger, he felt like throwing himself upon the ground and sleeping for a week. But, continuing, he entered a grove of trees something like a hundred yards in extent, through which, in the stillness of the night, he caught distinctly the ripple of flowing water. It required but a moment to discover this and he lay down upon the margin, quaffed his full and flung himself upon the grass to sleep until morning. Five minutes after his eyes were shut he was wrapped in a sound slumber which remained undisturbed until morning when, as he opened his eyes, he found the sun shining through the branches upon him.

"Gracious!" he exclaimed, starting up. "Where am I?"

It took several minutes before he could collect his senses and tell where he was; and then as he recalled the separation from his friends, he hurried out to the edge of the wood in the hope of discovering them somewhere near at hand; but, look in whatsoever direction he chose, nothing was to be seen but the broad sweeping prairie, stretching away until sky and earth joined in the distance. Far off, low down in the horizon, the blue wavy outline of a mountain spur was to be seen. Miles and miles away, it would probably require days of traveling before it could be reached.

"That's strange!" murmured Ned, as a feeling of alarm began stealing over him. "Where can Tom and Dick be? They must be somewhere in this neighborhood, and yet I cannot see any signs of them."

He moved around the grove, carefully gazing in every direction; but after making the complete circuit he came back without having detected anything that told him what had become of his friends.

The grove in which he had taken shelter abounded with undergrowth, so dense in many places, that he made his way with considerable difficulty. He had no thought of any one else being in the same place, but, while moving along in his careless manner, he was aroused to a sense of imprudence by the sound of something on his right. Turning his head, his surprise may be imagined when he saw a solitary buffalo standing scarcely a dozen feet distant, and staring straight at him. Ned was so astonished that for the moment he forgot that he carried a loaded gun, and stared at the creature in turn, the two forming as striking a tableau as it is possible to imagine.

The buffalo may have known the capacity of the weapon which the boy carried in his hand, for, with a sniff of alarm, he wheeled and started away on a run. As quick as thought the lad seemed to awake to a sense of his situation, and, raising his gun, he blazed away.

The shot, fired at random, could not have been better aimed by the most veteran of hunters. The ball entered directly behind the fore-leg just as it was thrown forward in the act of running, and, penetrating to the heart, the result was that the animal never made another bound. His own momentum carried him a few feet forward, when he tumbled and rolled over in a heap.

"Now I'll have a meal!" exclaimed the delighted lad, as he ran forward to claim his prize. "I feel as if I could eat the whole buffalo."

There seemed to be no reason why he should not provide himself with the most substantial kind of dinner. He knew very little about a buffalo, but it was no difficult task to cut off a good sized piece, which he placed upon some green leaves, while he looked about for some means of starting a fire.

"Well, there!" he exclaimed in delighted amazement, "if that isn't the most wonderful thing yet!"

This exclamation was caused by the sight of a smoking wad lying at his very feet, just as if Providence had sent it that he might be provided with the indispensable fire. Picking it up and blowing it, he saw that it was in a vigorous state, and could be utilized without trouble. A few leaves were hurriedly gathered together, dried twigs placed upon these, and then the tiny blaze that required considerable blowing to produce, was carefully nursed into a larger one until a good roaring, crackling fire was the result.

Leaving this to burn by itself, Ned took the meat to the side of the stream, where he carefully washed and dressed it, ready for cooking. When this was completed, he skewered it upon some green twigs, and began toasting it. The process was rather tardy, but as soon as a bite of the meat had spluttered and crisped for a moment, Ned bit it off, and went to masticating it. The cooking continued rapidly enough to keep his jaws going, and was a good arrangement, for it prevented his eating too fast, and gave him the fullest enjoyment imaginable of the meal. All of an hour was occupied in this way, during which Ned was in as happy a frame of mind as can be conceived. For the first half of the time he seemed to be growing more hungry with each mouthful he swallowed. Then came a standstill, and soon he began to gain upon it, the end being that he thoroughly satisfied that appetite which at one time had seemed unappeasable. With no further necessity of thinking of the wants of the inner man, the lad began to debate as to what he should do to get out of the rather unpleasant position in which he was placed. There he was, his horse gone, his two friends missing, and himself still a long distance from home. He knew not in what direction to turn to reach Fort Havens, and, even if he did, he had little assurance of ever reaching it. Indeed, with the exception of the rather important fact that he had secured possession of a rifle and some ammunition, it may be said that his position was very similar to what it was before he came across Dick Morris and Tom Hardynge.

CHAPTER XXVI.
CAPTURING A MUSTANG

It struck Ned that there was something very strange in the continued absence of the two hunters.

In thinking over the particulars of that rather curious buffalo hunt, he could not believe it possible that he was more than two miles from where he had made his start after the creature, and where he separated from them. All three were upon the easterly side of the herd, so that the trail made by his own animal could not have been obliterated by the hoofs of the buffaloes, and nothing could be easier than to follow it. Where, then, were they? What was the cause of their absence? These were questions which he asked himself again and again, and which he was unable to answer in any manner satisfactory to himself.

Suddenly it occurred to him that by climbing one of the trees near at hand, he might extend his view, and perhaps gain a portion of the knowledge he was so desirous of obtaining. He acted upon the thought at once, and, selecting the tallest, first concealed his rifle, and then climbed to the very topmost branches. There he was rewarded by a magnificent view, and one which promised him some of the results he was seeking. With this extension of his field of vision he discovered more than one evidence that he was not in a solitude. In the first place, by looking to the southward, a mass of dust and vapor was visible, indicating the presence and progress of some sort of herd, perhaps a drove of sheep from New Mexico, under the convoy of Indians who had shot the rightful owners and stampeded their property. Looking westward, another clump of trees was discerned, from the center of which came just enough smoke to show that there must be a camp fire beneath.

"I'll bet they are there!" exclaimed Ned, to himself, "and it may be they have started the fire on purpose to guide me to them."

The point to which his attention was thus directed was no more than a mile distant, and he wondered that he had not noted it before. It resembled in many respects the one in which he passed the night, and he saw from the course of the stream which ran through the latter, that it most probably watered the former where he believed the hunters were in camp.

Turning his eyes in another direction, the young wanderer was greeted by a sight which agitated him scarcely less. There, no more than a quarter of a mile distant, quietly grazing beside the winding stream which flowed at the base of the tree, was the very mustang which had been captured by the hunters and from whose back he had been thrown when in pursuit of the buffalo. He instantly lost all interest in the smoke of the camp fire in the greater interest he felt in the question of securing possession of the steed. Could he but remount him he would not care particularly whether he met the hunters or not, for, once upon the back of such a steed, he would consider himself competent to make the rest of the journey alone.

"What's to hinder?" he asked himself, as he fixed his eyes longingly upon the steed. "Dick says none of the Apaches have any animal that can overtake him, and all I have to do is to keep his head turned toward the southwest. There is a trail through the mountains yonder, and Corporal Hugg told me that there is a trail all the way. But can I catch him?"

He enjoyed in anticipation the pleasure he would feel when, possessing rifle, ammunition and horse he should resume his journey westward and the delight and joy of his father when he should clasp him in his arms again. He could have spent several hours building his air-castles in this manner, had he not checked himself and resolutely faced the difficulty before him. Looking again at the mustang, he was to be seen with his beautiful Indian blanket somewhat soiled from contact with the dirt, but cropping the grass with the air of an equine which expected to spend the day at it.

Ned decided to try and steal upon him from the rear, thinking, possibly, that he might get so close that when the frightened animal discovered him, he could step forward and grasp the bridle before the mustang could gallop away. Accordingly, he circled out upon the prairie until he got directly behind the animal, when he began his approach. The horse continued quietly eating until he was within a hundred feet, when he shifted his position so that his side was exposed. Startled lest he should be seen, Ned dropped down upon the grass and waited for him to resume his first attitude. After crouching in this manner for something like ten minutes, without any change taking place, he decided that as "the mountain would not come to Mohammed then Mohammed should go to the mountain," and he began crawling through the grass, with his eye upon his prize. To accomplish this without attracting notice was a delicate task, but he succeeded perfectly. Getting the mustang in exact range, he resumed his advance upon him, advancing until he was within twenty feet.

This was more favorable than he dared hope, and his heart beat high with expectation. He almost felt the warm body of the noble steed beneath him. And now, inch by inch, he stole forward, like an Indian scout moving upon a sleeping enemy until he could reach a point where he could bury his tomahawk in his skull.

"I wonder whether he will use those heels upon me?" reflected the lad, when he had reduced the intervening distance to a dozen feet. "If he were only blind in one eye, and I could get upon that side; but then he isn't."

It seemed to him that the greatest danger was the mustang hearing the throbbing of his heart, which was now beating like a trip-hammer; but the horse was as unconscious as if he were made of stone. Still nearer, until it appeared as if he had to make but a single leap forward, and he could grasp the long, flowing tail, and he felt that the moment had come when he must make the attempt. Crouching with one hand thrust out, he lifted one foot and advanced a few inches. Another step, and he could lay his hand upon him. At this exciting juncture, the horse abruptly ceased eating and raised his head. Ned saw it, and paused in an agony of suspense.

Looking straight off upon the prairie, the mustang gave a faint whinney, as if he scented danger from a point directly opposite to where the figure of the boy was stealing upon him. For a minute the two held these stationary positions; and then, as the lad moved a few inches again, the keen ears of the mustang told him the truth.

Pricking his ears forward, he turned his head half way round, so that he saw the crouching figure directly at his heels. Then he turned his head still further, and gathered himself for a leap. But Ned was expecting this; and, as quick as a flash, he leaped forward and caught the tuft of hair hanging over his forehead, dropping his gun and seizing at the same moment, with the other hand, the bridle-rein. The mustang made his leap, but the lad held on, and, by a quick, powerful effort threw one leg over his shoulders and slid upon his back in a twinkling. The horse was outwitted, defeated, and the boy was his conqueror.

"Hurrah!" shouted the latter, overflowing with exultation. "Thank the Lord! I've had better fortune than I expected."

The mustang was not an ugly-tempered creature, but would have given the lad the slip, could he have done so. It may have been that because he was nothing but a boy, he underestimated his capacity too much; but he had been fairly outgeneraled, and he submitted with a grace which cannot be too highly commended. He instantly became docile, and turned in ready obedience to the rein, and trotted back to where the gun lay upon the ground. Here Ned was obliged to descend again, but he kept a tight grasp upon the strap, and scrambled back again as soon as he had recovered it. It seemed to him, as he did so, that there was something like a mischievous twinkle in the eye of the pony. He appeared to say:

"It don't do to trust my species too far, my lad; for we prefer to be free rather than slave. However, you are a brave little fellow, and have done so well that I think I must stand by you hereafter."

Now that Ned was himself again, he turned the head of his animal toward the grove, where the thin smoke could still be seen creeping up through the tree tops.

"I will have quite a story to tell Dick and Tom," he reflected, as he rode along at an easy gallop. "I killed my buffalo, lost my horse, and caught him again. I don't believe that they themselves could have done much better."