The day was spent in the river bottom, all the horses being allowed to feed at liberty, except one which was picketed. A few hours before sunset they packed up and travelled north for two or three hours stopping to camp for the night on the banks of a little stream which flowed into the Yellowstone River. This valley was narrow, and on either side high bad-land bluffs rose to the prairie above, which was dry and already brown, though mid-summer was not yet here. That night they had a long rest, making up then for the many hours of night travelling and day watching which they had undergone during the last week.
As usual, Hugh was the first to turn out of his blankets; that is to say, he was the first to awake and sit up, but before he had freed himself from the coverings, he saw across the narrow valley, and just below the top of the bluffs, something that made him call Jack sharply, but in a low tone of voice. Standing on the bare earth, and scarcely to be distinguished from it, except by the dark shadows which they cast, were three great mountain rams, splendid with their stout curling horns, looking curiously at the horses feeding below them.
"Wake up, son, quick!" said he, "there's your chance; you'll never get a better shot at sheep than that."
Awakened from his sound sleep, Jack hardly understood what was said, but the word, sheep, caught his ear, and he flew up suddenly to a sitting posture, like a Jack springing out of its box.
"Not too quick," said Hugh; "easy now; don't lose your head. Where's your gun and cartridges? You want to kill one of them rams, and not leave me to try to do it, just as they're jumping over the ridge. Take the middle one, he's the biggest, and shoot a little high on him; it's over a hundred yards, maybe a hundred and twenty-five; aim just above the point of his breast, and hold steady; if you make a line shot you're sure to get him."
The biggest ram was standing with his head toward them, and his hips a little higher than his shoulders. The other two stood quartering, one up and one down the valley, and any one of the three offered a fair shot for an ordinary rifleman. Jack drew his gun out from beneath his blankets, loaded it, and drawing up his knees, and resting his elbow on one of them, drew a careful bead at the point named by Hugh, and fired. At the report, the ram shot at gave a long bound down the hill, and then stood for an instant. The other two had each sprung into the air, and now all three turned and began to climb the hill, the two smaller ones at a gallop, the other walking.
"Shall I shoot again, Hugh?" said Jack, much excited.
Hugh still sat with his blankets around his legs, and a smile on his face, as he answered, "I don't believe I'd waste another cartridge; he'll do us for quite a ways yet."
As he spoke the last ram turned off to one side, and disappeared behind a little ridge on the shoulder of the bluff.
"Ah," said Jack, with a long sigh of contentment, "I thought I heard the bullet strike, but I wasn't dead sure."
"Well, I guess he's stopped over there somewhere: we surely would have seen him if he'd run off anywhere. What's that?" As Hugh spoke, Jack heard a clatter of stones, which to his ears sounded as if the whole face of the bluff were sliding down, and a moment later a cloud of dust, rising over the shoulder of the little ridge behind which the sheep had disappeared, showed that some commotion was taking place over there. A moment more and the great sheep appeared, slowly rolling over and over down the hill, his legs sticking up in the air at one moment, then his back and great horns showing, as he rolled on toward the valley.
"Ha!" said Hugh, "he's saving us quite a lot of packing. Now, the first thing we'll do is to go over there and butcher him, and bring the meat into camp; and then we'll eat breakfast."
They crossed the stream, which was only two or three inches deep, on a wide riffle, and were soon standing over the game. It was a magnificent animal; far handsomer, Jack thought, than any game he had as yet killed—a picture of strength, grace and beauty.
"Well," said Jack, "I did hope that maybe sometime during the year I'd get a chance to shoot a sheep, but I never expected to have it come so soon."
"And I expect you never thought a sheep would walk right into camp to be killed, either."
"No, I surely didn't think that."
"Now, I expect," said Hugh, "that you'd like to save this skin, and the head, too; it's a good head, and you may kill a whole lot of sheep before you'll ever see a better, and yet I don't like the idea of packing this head all over the country; I wonder if we couldn't cache it somewhere, and then try to come back here and get it when we're going south this fall."
"That would be good, but how would you ever find it again? Of course you couldn't be sure of coming right back to this place. You might have to travel up or down the Yellowstone a long way, hunting for the head."
"Don't you fret yourself about that, son; I know where this creek is just as well as you know where the corrals are, down at the ranch. Many a time I've camped here, and if we hang this head up in a tree somewhere near here, I can find it the darkest night that ever was; but what I'm thinking about is, that maybe we won't come back this way, and I don't want to travel a hundred miles just to get a sheep's head. Anyhow, I'll cut the skin of the neck low down, and we can make up our minds later what we'll do with the skull."
It did not take very long to butcher and cut up the sheep, but several trips had to be made before the meat and hide and head had been carried to the camp.
"Now," said Hugh, "I want you to make the fire and cook breakfast, and I'm going to dry some of this meat."
While Jack was at work getting breakfast, Hugh stretched two of the sling ropes double, between a tree and some tall bushes that grew near it, and then went to work at the carcass of the sheep, cutting the flesh from it in wide flakes, of which before long he had a considerable pile. These he hung over the sling ropes, much as a laundress would hang handkerchiefs on a clothes line, and before Jack had announced that breakfast was ready, one of the lines was covered with red meat, which was already beginning to turn brown, in the rays of the hot sun.
"Whew!" said Hugh, as he came up to the fire to eat his breakfast, "this is going to be a scorching hot day. I believe we'll stop here for a while, and give that meat a chance to dry, and the horses a chance to rest up, and feed good; they're beginning to get poor, and I don't wonder, for they haven't had much chance to eat for the last six days. Is that all the breakfast you've got?" he continued, looking at the frying-pan full of meat which Jack had cooked; "why, that ain't a marker; I could eat all that myself. You'll have to put on some more before long, if you've got anything like the appetite I've got."
Breakfast was a deliberate meal, and greatly enjoyed. Jack thought that the flesh of the mountain sheep was the best meat that he had ever eaten, and said so.
"It's good," said Hugh. "It's sure good; but don't make up your mind it's the best meat in the world till we get among the buffalo; then you'll be eating what the Pawnees call, real meat, and if you don't say that fat cow is the best meat in the world, I don't want a cent. Did you notice anything when we came down into the valley last night?"
"Yes, I saw where some cattle had been."
"Ah, that's what I meant; but them cattle ain't the white-horned spotted cattle that you're used to see; they're the cattle that belong here on these prairies."
"What, are those buffalo tracks?"
"That's what. They're old, but there's been buffalo here this spring, and I miss my guess if we don't see some of 'em before many days have passed."
"Well," said Jack, "I'm going over to take a look those tracks, so I'll know 'em again when I see 'em."
"Well," said Hugh, "you won't have to go across the creek, because there's plenty of 'em right down below here. The first thing I want you to do," and he put his hand in his pocket and drew out his pipe, "is to help me to slice up the rest of this meat, and put it up where it'll dry. With the sun as hot as it is to-day, it won't take long for it to get hard, and maybe toward night we can pack up and travel a few miles further on."
They now returned to the sheep's carcass, and before long almost the whole of it was hanging in the sun to dry. One of the hams and a sirloin were saved, to be eaten as fresh meat; the rest, when dry, would be packed in a sack and carried with them.
By the time they had completed their task it was mid-day, and the sun was blazing down with all its force into the little valley where the camp was.
"Whew!" said Hugh, "it's hot here, ain't it? Now let's go down to the creek and wash up, and then we'll fry some sheep meat, and set in the shade for an hour or two; and then, if you like, we'll take this sheep's head down below here, and maybe get it when we come back in the fall."
"All right," said Jack, "I'd like to put it up somewhere where it will be safe, because I want to take it home with me and have it mounted, and give it to mother. You see, I didn't take anything back with me last year, except those hides, and I'd like real well to be able to point to this head hanging in the house, and tell the fellows how I killed it."
"Well," said Hugh, "there's a safe place to put it, not more'n a mile away, and the only thing is not to forget to come this way when we're going south in the fall."
After a hearty meal, and an hour or two of rest in the shade, Hugh said, "Now, son, round up your horses and we'll start. Suppose you ride the black to-day, and leave Pawnee and the others here; I'll ride the bucking dun."
Jack walked out toward where the horses were standing, and, drawing his whistle from his pocket, blew a shrill blast. At once all the horses raised their heads and looked toward him, and in a moment Pawnee started, trotting across the flat, and all the other horses followed. Pawnee trotted straight up to Jack and reached out his nose toward him, and Jack, taking from his pocket a piece of bread, held it toward the horse, which nosed it for a moment and then took it between his lips and began to eat it. While he was doing this, Jack passed his right arm, which held the rope, around the horse's neck, knotted it through in a bowline, and then stepping quietly around among the other horses, passed the other end of the rope over the neck of the black, and tied that. Hugh, meanwhile, had walked around the horses and up to the bucking dun, on the other side, and attached his rope to its neck. Pawnee was then freed, and the two horses to be ridden were led over to where the saddles were.
Hugh was soon saddled up, but before he finished he noticed that Jack was having trouble. He had dropped the rope on the ground, and holding the bridle open, tried to pass it over the head of the black horse, but whenever he did this the horse threw his head up in the air so high that Jack could not reach it. Hugh watched the performance for a little while, and at last saw Jack throw his right arm around the horse's neck, near the head, and again try to put the bridle on, but again the horse raised its head. Jack held on, and was swung quite off his feet, and when the horse lowered its head again and Jack's feet touched the ground he seemed angry, and struck at the horse's nose with his right hand, but did not hit it, and then, very angrily, tried to kick the horse in the belly. The horse stepped a little to one side and Jack had kicked so hard that he sat down very suddenly in a bunch of sage brush.
"Hold on, son," said Hugh, "that ain't no way to manage that horse; you'll never do nothing with a horse by getting angry at him and hammering him; keep cool, and you can conquer most any horse; get mad, and swear and kick and throw clubs, and you will spoil the best horse that ever lived."
"Well, confound it," said Jack, "I can't bridle him and it would make a saint mad to have to do with such a fool of a horse."
"Well, I guess that's so, but even if the saint did get mad, he wouldn't get his horse bridled. I want you to have sense, and not make a fool of yourself, even if the horse is one. Throw the bridle down on the ground, now, and put the saddle on him."
Jack felt a good deal ashamed of what he had done, and he knew that what Hugh had said was true, that nothing could be gained by getting angry. He got his saddle, folded the blanket, and saddled the horse. "Now," directed Hugh, "throw the end of your rope across the saddle, so that it hangs down on the off side." Jack did so, and then Hugh called him around to that side of the horse.
"Now," said he, "tie your rope around his fetlock," and when this had been done, he added, "now, take up his foot and bend his knee, and take a couple of turns of your rope around the saddle horn, so's to hold his foot up; now, slip round on the other side and put the bridle on him, quietly; don't be in a hurry."
Jack took up the bridle and opened it, and was about to try to pass it over the horse's head, when Hugh said, "Push against his shoulder hard." Jack did so, and the horse lost its balance a little and awkwardly lifted his front foot and put it down again, so that it could stand steadily.
"Now," said Hugh, "put your bridle on quietly." The horse paid no attention to the bridle, opened his teeth when Jack pressed his jaw, and in a moment the bridle was on and the throat-latch buckled.
"Now, turn his foot loose," said Hugh, "and we'll go on up to that clump of trees." Hugh took the sheep's head in one hand, mounted and started on, and Jack followed. As they rode up the valley, side by side, Hugh said, "That horse you're riding isn't a bad horse, and he isn't rightly a fool horse, either, but your uncle lent him last fall to a cow-puncher that was working for the Bar X outfit, and had lost his horse and stopped with us for a few days. That fellow didn't have the sense that God gave him; he was always hammering his horse in some way or other. If the horse didn't lead good, he'd take a club and pound it over the head. He came pretty near spoiling two or three horses he rode while he was here. Finally, one day Jo found him in the corral, hammering one of them young horses that was rode last summer, with a club, and he took the club away from the fellow and began to hammer him. The fellow tried to draw his gun, but Jo was too quick for him, and clinched him, and got the gun and threw it out of the corral. Then they fought all over the place, until Rube and Mr. Sturgis heard 'em, and came out and stopped it. When your uncle heard what had happened, he told that cow-puncher to take his blankets and walk, and the last they see of him he was walking.
"When you tied up this horse's foot, and gave him a shove, so that he see he wasn't very steady on his legs, you gave him something to think about, and he forgot all about that he didn't want to be bridled, and was just thinking of keeping his right side up."
"Well, Hugh, it's a mighty good thing to know that about taking up a horse's leg. I was awful mad when I couldn't bridle that horse, and felt as if I'd like to kill him; then when I kicked at him and missed him, and sat down, I felt what a fool I'd been, and I was madder than ever."
"Well, it don't pay for a fellow to lose his head. A man wants to keep his wits about him all the time, and when you get mad and try to fight a horse, whether it's a bad horse or just a scared horse, you're kind o' losing the advantage that a man has over an animal, and putting yourself down on his level."
"That's so, isn't it?" said Jack, "I never thought of it just that way before."
"Yes, that is so; the only thing that a man has got that's much use to him is his sense; a buffalo is bigger and stronger; a deer is swifter; a wolf can crawl around better out of sight, and all them animals are better armed than a man is. It's his sense that gives a man the pull on all of 'em, and makes him able to creep up on 'em and kill 'em, if he wants to; makes him able to tame horses, and makes him smart enough to get up guns and gunpowder, and railways and all them things. So, whatever you do, son, you want to try to hang on to your sense, and never lose it even for a minute. A man that's got a level head, that isn't away up in the air one minute, and away down to the ground another, is the man that's going to come out ahead."
As Hugh finished speaking, they rounded a point of the bluffs and saw before them a group of half-a-dozen box-elder trees, with a few clumps of willows growing beneath them. "There," said Hugh, "if we put that skull up in that thickest box-elder tree it's pretty sure to stay there until we come back. Nothing will bother it except the magpies, and all they'll do will be to clean off the meat there is on it."
They stopped under the tree, and dismounted. Hugh pointed upward, and Jack, obeying his gesture, quickly scrambled up to the lowest of the branches. Hugh threw him the end of his rope, which Jack caught, and carrying it, climbed up in the thick foliage.
"Now," said Hugh, "you haul up the skull, and hang it by the horns, close to the trunk, across two branches. See that it is so firm that it can't blow down; or, if you can't make it firm, tie it with these buckskin strings that I'll put around the horn." Hugh took two long thongs of buckskin from his pocket, wound them around the horns, and then lifting the skull as high as he could, Jack slowly hauled it up to where he was.
"Here's a bully place," he said, "a branch to hold each horn, and a strong, dry stub coming out, that will support the chin."
"All right," said Hugh, "maybe you'd better tie it, anyhow, with them strings; then we'll be doubly sure that it will stay there."
After a few moments' work, Jack threw down the end of the lariat, and called to Hugh, "It's firm and steady as a rock, now, and I don't believe anything can move it."
"All right," said Hugh; "come on, we'll go back to camp and maybe move on a little further to-night."
A little later they were again in camp.
Two or three hours before sunset they packed up and set out again, travelling until nearly dark, when they came to a water course which was dry, except for an occasional hole where there was a little mud and stagnant water. Hugh paused and looked about, saying, "We've struck this creek a little too far down; there's a spring just a little above here—right good water." Turning, he rode up the stream and before long called back, "There's the place just ahead; we'll camp there to-night."
For the next two or three days they continued their journey. Jack now had plenty of chance to see buffalo tracks, for it was evident that not long before there had been plenty of buffalo on the prairie here.
"Hugh," said Jack, as they sat at breakfast one morning, "oughtn't we to see some buffalo pretty soon? We've been seeing a lot of sign, and it seems to me that it's growing fresher all the time."
"That's so, son," answered Hugh; "it is growing fresher, and I believe that we're liable to see buffalo most any day now. Maybe we'll see some to-day. You took notice that the sign has been growing fresher all the time, but I don't know if you saw that these buffalo are moving just about the same way we are. Of course they ain't travelling; they're just kind o' feeding along, but if you watch the tracks we pass to-day, you'll see that the most of 'em are pointing just about the way we're going. Now, we've been travelling right smart and fast, not stopping for anything, ever since we first struck the sign. When we first saw it, it was right old. Now it's fresh. That means that we are following up the buffalo, and catching up to 'em, and I wouldn't be surprised if we were to see some before we camp to-night." Hugh stopped speaking, filled his pipe, and leaning over toward the fire, picked up a brand and lighted it. "Well," he went on, "if you'll saddle up now, I'll fix up these dishes, and make up the packs, and we'll move along."
Jack went out and brought in the horses, and tied them up to some bushes. Then he put the saddles on the pack horses, and drew the cinches up on them well, but did not tie them. Next he saddled Hugh's horse, and then his own, in each case leaving the latigos untied. By the time he had returned to the fire, Hugh had made up his packs, and when Jack saw that they were ready, he brought up the pack horses, one by one, and after re-cinching each animal, the loads were speedily in position. The two riders mounted, and they moved off in a single file, Hugh leading, the pack horses following and Jack as usual bringing up in the rear on Pawnee.
All through the morning they travelled on over the gray prairie. Antelope were plenty and tame, and often ventured within shot of the train, but they had meat in one of the packs, and neither Hugh nor Jack felt like molesting the pretty animals. There were many flowers to be seen on the prairie; bunches of brilliant red or yellow cactus and white poppy bells swinging in the wind. Now and then, in some low places, where it was too damp for the sage to grow, they saw patches of blue and pink lupine, and occasionally a bunch of white flowers, which Hugh had told Jack was the loco; a plant which poisons animals that eat it.
About noon Hugh halted near a little hill, and said to Jack, "Let's leave the pack horses here to feed, and ride up on top of that bluff. I think maybe we'll see something." They did so, and when they reached its crest, Hugh, after looking over the landscape for a few moments, pointed away to the north, and said, "Buffalo." Jack looked hard, but could see nothing that looked like a buffalo, but far off on the distant hillside he saw some tiny black specks, which he knew must be the longed-for animals.
"Now, Hugh," he said, "how do you know that those are buffalo, and not cattle or horses?"
"Well," said Hugh, "to tell you the truth, I don't believe I can tell you how I know, but I know it all the same. In the first place, in this range of country where we are now, there ain't any cattle or any horses, without they're Indian horses. Now, of course it might be such a thing that there'd be a little bunch of Indian horses scattered out on the hill-side like that, and all of 'em dark coloured animals, but I don't believe it. I wouldn't look to see horses in such a place as that; they're too far from any stream, and they don't look right for horses. At the same time, they're too far off for me to tell by their shape or the way they act that they ain't horses. But you keep on, and before the day's over, we'll see more buffalo, and close to us, too; and maybe before this trip's over, you'll get to know buffalo when you see 'em as far off as that, even if you can't tell how it is you know what they are."
Two or three miles beyond this they stopped at a little stream, where there were a few trees, and unpacked their animals and turned them out to graze, while they built a fire and cooked a meal. After they had eaten, and prepared the packs again, Hugh said, "Now, we'll let these horses eat for an hour longer before packing up, and then we'll start, and if we have to, we can make quite a long drive before night." They made themselves comfortable under the shade of the tree, and presently Hugh said to Jack, "Son, do you mind the lecture I gave you about hunting, when you first came out into this country, more than a year ago? That was the day you killed your first antelope, I think."
"Yes, of course I remember, Hugh," replied Jack. "I didn't understand everything that you told me then, but I've remembered it all a good many times since, and what you said to me has helped me a whole lot."
"Well," said Hugh, "I expect I did talk a heap that day, but I wanted to kind o' try and start you on the right road. I mind, though, that while I was talking, I kept thinking I was kind o' like one of them professors that we see out in this country sometimes; them fellows that come out to dig bones, and catch bugs, and all sorts of little lizards, snakes and other varmints. I heard one of them talking once, and he just kept right on for two or three hours, telling us about how the earth was made, and how this used to be water where it is all dry now, and a whole parcel of things that I didn't understand, and I don't believe anybody else did, except the man that was talking."
"Well, Hugh," said Jack, "there isn't anybody that knows it all, and these professors know about bones and bugs, and you know about hunting and trailing, and fighting Indians. I suppose there ain't any man but what could teach 'most any other man something."
"That's so, son; you're dead right, but the trouble with most of us is, we set a heap of store by what we know, and we don't think very much of what other people know. I expect the smartest men of all is them that's always anxious to learn, and always a-learning. But what I set out to say was something about buffalo, and killing buffalo. Now, of course, you're a boy; a pretty sensible boy, I'll allow, but, after all, you're a boy, and you're liable to get excited. Now, you know, we're travelling now; we ain't here for pleasure; we're trying to go somewhere; so if we come on buffalo, right close, sudden, I don't want you to go crazy, and start off to chase 'em. You're here now, a-helping to take care of this pack train, and you mustn't lose your packs. You'll have plenty of chances to kill buffalo; likely you'll have a chance to-day; but when you start in to kill your first buffalo, see that you go at it right. Now, a buffalo is awful easy killed. Where they're plenty, you can creep right up close to 'em, and kill 'em by still hunting, but of course it's lots more fun to run 'em. You've got a good horse, and he'll take you right up to any cow that runs on the prairie. When you get a chance to chase buffalo, remember that you mustn't shoot until you get right up close to 'em. Ride right up close by the cow's side, and then shoot, and your horse will turn off a little, so as to get out of the way in case the cow should charge. You needn't mind your horse at all; he'll take care of himself, and won't step into any badger hole, or fall with you; but you've got to look out for your riding, for if a cow turns quick, and your horse has to whirl quick, you may slide off, if you haven't got the horse well between your legs. Another thing is, that a buffalo stands awful high, and you're likely to shoot too high, and put a lot of bullets into an animal where they won't hurt it a particle. You must remember that in a buffalo, as in every other animal that I know anything about, the life lies low. If you're on a horse, you'll be shooting down, of course, but try to shoot so that the ball will cut the buffalo only a few inches above the brisket. I've seen lots of young fellows waste ammunition on buffalo; fellows that could shoot pretty well, too; only they didn't know where to shoot; they all shot too high. The boss ribs on a buffalo stick so far up into the air that there's pretty nigh as much of the animal above its backbone as there is below, and that's awful deceiving, and tends to make a man shoot high. Now, I expect likely you'll remember all this that I've told you, and won't have any trouble at all. You take hold of things about hunting quicker than any boy I ever saw."
"I'm much obliged to you for telling me this, Hugh, and I'll try hard to remember it. I expect I'll get excited when I have my first chance to shoot at a buffalo. They're so big, you see; bigger than anything I ever had a chance to shoot at."
"Yes," said Hugh, "maybe you'll feel that way the first time or two; but, Lord! you'll get used to it after a little while, and you'll only want to kill buffalo when you're hungry. Mind what I tell you, though, about your riding. I'd hate almightily to see you go flying off your horse, when you're after a bunch of buffalo, the way you did that time last summer when you were chasing the wolf."
"That's so," said Jack, "I flew a long way that time, but I hope I'm a good deal better rider now than I was then."
"Yes," said Hugh, "I expect you are. You ought to be, anyhow. But I want you to be as careful as you know how. There's been a whole lot of men killed by chasing buffalo; hooked by them, or had their horses fall with them, or been thrown a long way, and had their guns driven through their bodies. I've seen a lot of accidents in my time. Well," he went on, as he lighted his pipe again, "let's saddle up and move."
As they rode on, through the afternoon, they saw more and more buffalo. Several bunches that they passed were not more than a half mile from them, but, though Jack was very anxious to have a shot, he said nothing, feeling pretty sure that his chance would come before very long. Toward evening they came to a little stream, flowing through a narrow valley where there was wood, and a nice grassy flat. Here Hugh halted, and said to Jack, "I did calculate that we'd go on five or six miles further, to the main creek, but I guess maybe we'll stop here and make camp, and then, before we eat, we'll ride out a little way and see if we can't kill some meat. That last antelope is pretty near gone, and it might be such a thing that we could kill a buffalo."
"All right," said Jack, "that will suit me first class."
They took the packs off the horses, picketed them out, and then, tightening their saddles, rode up out of the creek valley, and toward some rough, broken buttes that rose from the prairie two or three miles to the west. Half an hour's riding brought them to a broken country, and, dismounting at the foot of a hill rather taller than the others, they climbed on foot to its summit. Here Jack saw a curious sight. To the west, many buffalo could be seen; some of them quite near; others, far off. All of them were moving; not running, but walking along in single file, one after another, like so many cows moving through a pasture.
"Why, what are they doing, Hugh?" asked Jack; "and where in the world are they going? They seem to be all travelling, but in different directions. I supposed that when buffalo wanted to go anywhere they all ran off in a great crowd, but these are walking along slowly, but walking as if they were determined to go somewhere."
"That's just what they're doing, son; they're going to water, and each one of them bunches that you see is heading right straight for the nearest water. Some of them look like they was going right down to our camp, and here comes a bunch that are going to pass right close to us. Do you see that trail that passes right at the foot of this hill? Well, that's a buffalo trail, and if I ain't mightily mistaken, them nearest buffalo is going to follow that trail, and come right close by where we left the horses. We'll go down and get 'em and bring 'em up a little further, behind that shoulder, and sit by 'em until the buffalo come, and then you'll have a chance to kill one, and we'll have some fat cow to eat to-night."
"That will be great," said Jack; "of course I'd rather chase them, but then, as you said to-day, we ain't out here for fun, and I don't suppose it would be good sense to run Pawnee down, chasing buffalo. He's been travelling all day, and it wouldn't do him any good to give him a race now."
"That's good sense, son. Take care of your horse, and take care of your gun, always, in this country. When we get to the Piegan camp there'll be a whole lot of chances to run buffalo, and to run 'em with a fresh horse. It would be just foolishness to do it now. Come on." Hugh led the way down the hill to the horses, and bringing the animals a little higher up the hill and so out of sight, they crept over to a shoulder, from which they could plainly see the buffalo trail passing only forty yards distant. They had not sat there long when Hugh touched Jack, and motioned with his head, and, as he looked, Jack saw one buffalo after another come in sight around the point of the bluff until twelve were visible. "It's a little bunch of cows," said Hugh, in a low voice, "and five of 'em have got calves. There's two heifers, and one of those you want to kill. Take the last one, or else the one that's third from the end; they're the two heifers, and they'll be fat, and first-class meat. Take notice of these cows; you'll see their horns are slim and turned in. A bull's horns are a great deal stouter, and don't turn in near so much. Now, pick your animal, and get ready, and when she's opposite to us, shoot. Try not to kill one of the old cows; she won't be half as good meat as the heifer."
Jack lay there and watched, and his heart was beating fast, as the buffalo approached. They seemed to walk slowly and heavily, kicking up a good deal of dust, their beards almost sweeping the ground. The little calves, to Jack's great surprise, were reddish in colour, and seemed to have no hump at all. In fact, they looked like little red farm calves. They were strong and active, and seemed to be very playful, sometimes running short races, away from the trail, and again coming back and falling into the line behind their mothers. Though to the eye the buffalo seemed ponderous and slow, it took them but a little time to get up opposite where Jack sat. When they had done so he settled himself and began to aim, and Hugh said, "Remember now, low down, and a leetle bit ahead of where you want to hit; they're moving, you know." Jack fired, and all the buffalo stopped and looked about them. "Did I hit her?" said Jack. "I think I must have."
"Yes," said Hugh, "you hit her, and you hit her right. She'll be down in a minute, and then I think the others will go on."
In a moment or two the heifer at which Jack had fired walked slowly out of the trail, and lay down, and the other buffalo, after looking about, started on, and in a few moments had disappeared behind another rise of ground.
"Well," said Hugh, "let's go and get the horses, I expect likely she'll be dead by the time we get to her." Jack was trembling a little when he rose and followed Hugh, but by the time he was in the saddle he had cooled down again. They rode toward the heifer, which had fallen over on her side and was moving still—not quite dead. Jack was about to ride up to her, when Hugh said, "Hold on! Wait a little; give her a chance to die." They dismounted at a little distance from the animal, and walked around to her head, but still fifteen or twenty yards distant.
"Now, I have often told you," said Hugh, "not to go up to an animal without a load in your gun, and I'll tell you now, never to go up to a buffalo unless you're sure it's dead. I was hunting once with a partner, trying to get some meat to take into the railroad, and we shot three or four buffalo from a stand, and then went down and drove the others off, and started in to butcher. There was one cow that was moving a little, and my partner went up to her to cut her throat, and when he had nearly got to her, she jumped up and ran against him, and threw up her head, and then fell down dead, and when I got to him I found that one horn had split him open from the waist to the throat, and he died while I stood looking at him. That's always made me feel scared of a wounded buffalo. That cow keeps on moving. Just fire a shot into her head, just in front of the horns, and above the eyes." Jack did so, and the cow stretched out her legs and lay still. "Lots of people will tell you," said Hugh, "that you can't kill a buffalo by shooting it in the forehead. They say that the skull's so thick, and the hide and the hair makes such a mat that a ball won't go into it. Don't you ever believe them. If you shoot a buffalo in the forehead, and aim your gun right, so's to hit its brain, you kill it every time."
They took as much of the meat of the heifer as their horses could carry, and returned to camp.
"There," said Hugh, one afternoon as they rode over a low ridge, and down toward a stream flowing through a wide valley, "that's the Mussellshell!"
"Well," said Jack, "it don't look to me like much of a river."
"Well, no," said Hugh, "it ain't; there's a heap of valley and mighty little river. There ain't but one other river, that I know of, that's long like this one, that carries as little water."
"What one is that, Hugh?" said Jack.
"That's Milk River," was the reply. "We cross that, or at least, the heads of it after we get into the Piegan country. That stream don't rise in the mountains, but comes up out of a lot of springs and swamps on the prairie; so all the water it gets is what little melting snow drains into it in spring; and besides that, it flows through a gumbo country, and lots of the water soaks into the soil, so that by the middle of summer down near its mouth it is often plumb dry, or what water there is in it just stands in water holes; it don't run at all. Then, in spring, when the snow is melting and the rains are on, it often gets over its banks and floods the whole country."
"There don't seem to be much wood here, Hugh; where are you going to camp?"
"Well," said Hugh, "we'll have to camp by some patch of sage-brush, and use that and buffalo chips to cook with. There's plenty of wood up nearer to the mountains, but none down here."
Camp was made early in the afternoon, but after they had taken off the packs, and Jack had unsaddled, he noticed that Hugh's horse still had his saddle on, and was feeding about the camp, dragging his rope and bridle.
"Why don't you unsaddle, Hugh?" he asked.
"Well," said Hugh, "I'm going to ride along the river apiece, and try to pick a good place to cross; this here creek is mighty bad in spots—quicksands in the river and soap-holes along the bank, that you can't see until you get right to 'em. It may take me half an hour to look out a crossing to-night, and that may save us a horse, and anyhow, a whole lot of trouble in the morning."
After they had eaten and washed up the dishes, Hugh mounted and rode off up the stream. The horses were feeding close to the camp, and Jack took his rifle, and walking up to a little rise of ground, sat there, overlooking the camp and the wide valley. He had not been there very long when something moving down the stream caught his eye, and as he watched it, and it came nearer, he could see that it was a bird flying, and when still closer, he saw that the bird was big, and that there seemed to be something long streaming out behind it. Just below the camp it came down nearly to the water's surface, and suddenly threw out a long neck, checked its flight, and let its long slender legs drop, alighting on a sand-bar. Jack saw then that it was a great heron or crane, but larger than any that he had ever seen. He thought he would shoot it, and get Hugh to tell him just what it was; so after the bird had stopped looking about, and had lowered its head and was walking along the bar, Jack quickly crept out of sight, and running down between two ridges which hid him, got near enough to the bank to take a shot at the bird. It was not easy to estimate how far off it was; it looked like less than a hundred yards, but over the flat bottom and the water there was nothing to measure the distance by except the bird's size. However, he took a careful shot at it with level sights, and was delighted to see it spread its wings and fall forward on the sand. He walked to the edge of the stream, wondering how he could get the bird. The distance across to the sand-bar was not great, but the water was muddy and whirling, and it was impossible to see bottom, or to guess whether if he stepped in he would go over his shoes or his head. He looked about for a stick with which he might feel for the bottom, but of course there were no sticks there. He put the butt of his gun into the water, but could not feel the bottom. Then he sat down, took off his shoes and stockings, and rolled up his trousers, and let himself down over the bank, feeling in the water for bottom, but he could not touch it. The water felt thick, and he could feel the little particles of soil striking against his legs. Getting up on the bank again he took his shoes in one hand and his rifle in the other, and walked up the stream a little way, and there he again tried for bottom, but found none. He looked at the bird, so near to him, and did not feel like giving it up. It was hardly thirty feet away. He felt sure that he could throw a rope across to it.
This gave him an idea. Putting on his shoes, and thrusting his socks into his pocket, he walked up to the camp and took a sling-rope off a pack saddle, and then, with the axe and a picket-pin in his hand walked down to the stream. He now had in his mind two ways of getting the bird; one was to tie the picket-pin to the end of the rope, and try to throw it over the bird, and drag it into the water, and so, across. If he could not do that, he made up his mind that he would drive the picket-pin into the bank, tie the rope to it, strip off all his clothes, and, holding the rope, try to wade across the channel.
It was not hard to throw the picket-pin and rope over to where the bird lay, but it proved very hard to throw it so that the line could lie across the bird. Once he did so, and began to pull in very gradually, but before the bird had been moved at all toward the water's edge the pin slipped up over it and came away.
Meantime, Hugh had ridden quite a long way up the stream, looking for a crossing, but finding none. Two or three places seemed inviting, but his horse was afraid of them, and on investigating, Hugh found that bad quicksands lay close to the bank. At length, however, he reached a point where a deep buffalo trail came down to the water's edge, and where buffalo had crossed later. There were some stones in the bottom here, and Hugh, riding in, and crossing the stream so as to come out where the buffalo trail appeared on the other side, found that he had a good crossing. Then he turned about and rode back to camp.
After Jack had thrown the picket-pin until he was thoroughly discouraged, he decided to try to cross, himself. He drove the picket-pin firmly in the bank, and tied the sling-rope to it, undressed, took the coil of rope in his hand, and then let himself down from the bank into the water, very slowly. Before the water was up to his shoulders his feet struck the bottom of coarse gravel, and he turned his face toward the other bank, and holding the rope tightly, with the coil in his left hand, he began to go slowly out into the stream. The water flowed with great violence, and two or three times nearly took him off his feet. Soon, however, it shoaled a little, and he turned up the stream to reach the point of the sand-bar behind which there was an eddy. In a moment the water was only up to his knees, and he was just about to spring forward to the bar when suddenly the bottom seemed to give out beneath his feet, and the water was up to his waist, while, piled around his legs, up to his knees, was a mass of heavy sand. He tried to lift his feet out of it, but the sand clung like great weights about his legs and he could not move them. In a moment it flashed across his mind that these must be the quicksands about which he had heard so often, but of which he had known nothing. Stories told by Hugh and others, of men and animals caught in this terrible, unyielding sand flashed across his mind as he struggled to free his feet. One pull seemed to loosen his right foot, and he lifted it a little way, but this left him with his knee bent, and made that leg useless. The sand seemed to be piling up higher around his legs, and now it was half way up to his thighs. He was frightened.
All this had taken a very few moments and luckily he still held the sling-rope. He drew this tight, and throwing himself forward, so that his body was almost horizontal, he pulled on the rope with all his might, and at the same time tried to kick with his legs. In vain; he could move neither of them, but his thighs, which before had been erect, bent forward, and now he could not get them back again; to keep his body erect he was obliged to lean backward. Every minute he could feel that the sand was higher on his legs, and he could also feel that the water was creeping up his body. It seemed but a few moments since his knees were out of the water, and now the water rippled against his chest. What was going to happen? It could not be that he should drown here; and yet Hugh had told him of men who had been drowned in just this way. He must try again to get out. He must do something; he could not stand this.
Suddenly, he remembered something that Hugh was always saying; something that he had said to him only two or three days before; the sense of it was, that a man should always keep his wits about him; and as these oft repeated words came into his mind he seemed suddenly to cool off, and to lose the excitement that he had been feeling. His mind worked fast, and he said to himself, "Now, what would Hugh do if he were stuck here?" He tried to think; then suddenly he bent down, and with his face close to the water began to scrap away the sands from the sides of his thighs. He had been doing that only for a moment when he noticed something; the sand scraped away on the down-stream side of his body seemed to come back at once; that scraped from the up-stream side did not come back, but left a hole. In a moment he comprehended what this meant; that on the up-stream side of his legs the water was helping carry away the disturbed sand, while on the down-stream side it was packing in that sand all the time. In a moment he was working with both hands on the up-stream leg, and it took a very short time to clear this almost down to the knee, but below that he could not get. Suddenly, he threw himself down stream as hard as he could, wrenched his body to one side, and with a mighty pull dragged his left leg from its fetter, falling down in the water so that its muddy flood covered him. He righted himself at once, and kept kicking with his left leg, for fear that it should again become fast, and soon he had trodden a hard place, where for a little while he could rest his foot, but the whirling sands soon covered it, and he was obliged to keep it moving. Now the water had carried away the sand from the upper part of his right thigh, but he could not free it, nor even move it. Again despair seized him, and he did not know what to do. He looked at the clear blue sky, at the brown prairie, and back at the horses, quietly feeding near the camp, just as if no one anywhere about was suffering and fearing, perhaps dying. Oh, if Pawnee were only here, and he could take hold of his tail.
Once more he tried to free his foot, struggling, jerking, pulling and wrenching the leg, until it was strained and sore, but the unyielding sand held it as in a vise, and at length he stood still, almost exhausted. All the time he felt that the water was creeping up a little higher on his body. Now for a little while Jack entirely lost his self control. "What does it mean?" he asked himself in despair. "What is going to happen? Can it be that I am not going to get out? Have I got to drown here in sight of camp? Shan't I ever get back home, and see father and mother again, or uncle Will or Hugh? Was mother thinking about this when she cried and kissed me at the train, and asked me to be careful? I haven't been careful, but it seems kind o' hard that she should have to suffer because I am a fool. How badly father'll feel, too, and Uncle Will and Hugh. They'll all think that they were to blame. Oh! I must get out, I can't die here;" and the poor boy again struggled until he was exhausted. The water was now nearly up to his arm-pits, and he was almost worn out.
All at once, as he looked at the camp, he saw Hugh ride in among the horses, stop and look about, as if trying to see where his companion was. Jack's heart gave a great bound, and he called loudly, but Hugh did not hear him, and began to swing himself out of the saddle. In despair, Jack yelled again, sending out a shrill, high-pitched scream which reached the rider and made him throw his leg back over the saddle and turn in the direction of the river. Again Jack screamed, and Hugh galloped rapidly toward the bank, and in a moment saw the boy's white skin shining above the muddy water.
"Help, Hugh! help! I'm stuck," called Jack.
"All right, son," came Hugh's deep voice, "hold on a minute, we'll have you out." He galloped up to the very edge of the bank, sprang from the saddle, and quickly freed his rope from the horse's neck, at the same time throwing down the bridle rein. Then stepping a little to one side; he coiled the rope, made a careful cast, and the loop fell over Jack's head. Jack caught it, drew up the loop under his arm-pits, and Hugh quickly took in the slack; then he walked to his horse, drew the rope tight, and took a double turn of it about the saddle horn.
"Now, son," said Hugh, "we've got to pull you out, and if you're badly stuck, it's liable to stretch you considerable."
"No matter, Hugh; only get me out as quick as you can," said Jack. "I've got one leg free, there's only one to be pulled loose."
"Well," said Hugh, "we'll go as easy as we can, but it's liable to hurt you considerable. What's this rope running into the water from this pin?"
"That's around my body, too," said Jack.
"Is it tied?" said Hugh.
"No," said Jack, "it's just wrapped around."
"Well, make it fast around your body, and then let me have what slack you can. I'll pull on that rope, and have the horse pull on the other, and maybe that'll make it easier for you."
Jack tied the end of the rope about his body, and Hugh took in the slack; then he loosened the lariat, turned his horse so that his head was away from the stream, again fastened the lariat to the saddle horn, and put the sling-rope over his own shoulder; then he called to Jack, "See if you can dig away the sand at all from around the leg that's fast." Jack bent down until his face was under water, and worked hard, scraping away the sand, and again succeeded in getting it down to his knee; then he raised his head again, and called to Hugh, "I've done the best I can, the sand is down to my knee, but it's filling up again."
"Well," said Hugh, "we'll start. You must yell if you feel anything breaking." He bent forward, throwing his weight very slowly against the sling rope, and starting the horse very slowly at the same time. The ropes tightened, Jack was pulled forward until his face was under water, he felt as if he were being cut in two below his arms, as if his legs were being pulled out of their sockets, when suddenly, with a jerk, he flew forward, was buried under the muddy water, and then whirled over and over in it, and a moment later was dragged out on the bank by Hugh, who bent over him with an anxious face. Without a word Hugh lifted him in his arms and put him on the horse, which he led toward the camp. Before they had reached there, Jack had recovered his breath, and said, "Oh, Hugh, I don't think I ever was so glad to see anybody in my life as I was to see you ride in among the horses."
"Well," said Hugh, "I'm glad I got there just when I did. You must have had a pretty bad time while you were stuck there."
"Yes," said Jack, "I don't think I will ever be so near drowning, and yet live."
"You're some cut by them ropes, I see," said Hugh. And Jack, looking down, saw about his body two red, bleeding marks, where the ropes had rubbed his skin off. "Are your legs all right?" continued the old man.
"I think so," said Jack. "One of 'em feels longer than the other, but I can move them both."
"Well," said Hugh, "I ought to have told you not to try to cross this creek; everybody knows it's bad for quicksands, but I ought to have remembered that you didn't know nothing about this country, anyhow."
Hugh lifted Jack out of the saddle and laid him down on one of the mantas, and then unrolled his bed and put him on that.
"Now," said Hugh, "I'm going to look you over and see if you're much hurted." A quick, rough examination showed Hugh that, except for marks around Jack's body where the ropes had pulled, and a long, deep scratch on his leg and foot, he was quite sound. Hugh took some sheep tallow, and melting it in the frying-pan, applied it warm to these scars; and then, telling Jack to lie still, went down to the stream again and brought back his rifle and clothes. Then he sat by him and talked to him, telling stories of the Musselshell country, and the Indian fights that had taken place there, until darkness fell, and the boy dropped asleep.
When Jack awoke next morning and tried to move he was unable to do so. For a moment he could not think what had happened; then suddenly the events of the day before flashed back into his memory. Hugh, who had been sitting by the fire, saw the blankets stir and walked over near to him.
"Well, son," he said, "how do you feel this morning? Pretty stiff and sore I reckon, ain't you?"
"Yes, indeed, Hugh, I am sore all over. I don't feel as if I could move; but except for that I am all right."
"Well," said Hugh, "lie still awhile till I make breakfast, and then we'll kind o' prop you up, and see whether you are off your feed or not."
Hugh went back to the fire and Jack could hear him walking about it and rattling the dishes. He wanted to get up and do his part, too, but he could not bend one of his joints without its hurting. By-and-by he managed very slowly to turn his whole body, so that he lay on his side and could look at the fire, and watch Hugh cooking the meat and waiting for the coffee to boil, and then taking the pot off the coals and setting it in a warm place, and finally clearing it by dashing a cupful of water into it. Then, when all was ready, Hugh brought the pack saddles close to Jack's bed, piled them up firmly so as to make a back, and then approaching Jack, put his arm under his shoulders, lifted him partly from the ground, and drew the whole bed over until the boy's back rested against the pack saddles, made soft by the piling against them of a number of blankets. Hugh did this so very slowly and gently that the bending of Jack's body at the thighs scarcely hurt him at all.
"There," said Hugh, "did it hurt you much? I reckon you'll feel better right off, now that you can sit up and look around; and now if you'll eat a good breakfast I think I can take and rub some of the soreness out of you pretty quick, as soon as it gets a little warmer."
"Thank you, Hugh," said Jack, gratefully, "it didn't hurt me a bit, and I believe if you'll help me a little bit I can get up and dress and walk around, after breakfast. I hate to lie here doing nothing. It's like being a prisoner."
"Well," said Hugh, "it ain't no fun, I reckon. I mind once when I was laid up with a broken leg, I got terrible uneasy until I was able to hobble about a little bit, and I know that being a prisoner ain't no fun, cause I was one myself once, and I was sure uncomfortable."
"When was that, Hugh?" said Jack. "I never heard about that before."
"Well," said Hugh, "you go on and eat your breakfast—here's your coffee and some meat and bread, and I'll tell you about it. It wan't so very long ago; only about ten years. I was working on a ranch at the head of one of the forks of the Loup, just after they first got cattle in the country, and we had a terrible lot of trouble with horse thieves. Doc Middleton and his gang was camped somewhere in the country, and some of the best horses out on the range kept disappearing all the time. We knew it wasn't Indians that was taking them, and we knew they wasn't running off themselves; so we calculated it was white men, and we figured that it was Middleton and his outfit. Still, there wasn't anything sure known about it. Some of the boys were for catching Middleton and hanging him, but it was easier to talk about that than it was to do it. He generally went with three or four men, not always the same ones though, and they were all of them always heeled, and it was liable to be a pretty hard matter to get the drop on them. Nobody knew where they was camped, but the boys that was riding on all the ranches in the country had orders to be on the lookout for them, and if they saw any signs of where they stopped, to let it be known right off.
"Finally one day one of the boys came in and reported that he'd come on a horse trail pretty well worn, leading down into one of the cedar canyons that runs into the Dismal, and he believed that Middleton's outfit was camped in there; and from the way the trail looked, he thought they had a lot of horses there. It didn't take long to gather up a dozen men, who said they'd start down there and find out what there was in the camp, anyhow; and other riders had been sent out to bring in more men from the furthest camps. Really, a dozen men wasn't enough to tackle this gang, for we could count eight or nine men that belonged to it, and if they wanted to put up a fight against us it wasn't any sure thing that we could best them. Anyhow, what there was of us started out about dark and rode down within two or three miles of the cedar canyon, leaving fellows along the road to bring up any of the other men that might come in. When we got down to the stopping place, Wilson, the ranch boss who was leading our party, asked me to go ahead down to the camp and see how many men there was there, and whether they had just their own horses, or a bunch besides.
"I started off, and when I got within a quarter of a mile of the camp, left my horse in the hollow in the sandhills, and went ahead on foot. It was easy to find the place. When I got close to it, I could see the light of the fire shine on the cedars long before I got within sight of the camp. I went along slow and easy, but when I got to the edge of the canyon I could not see anything except the fire and two or three wagons, and five or six men sitting around. Their horses were out of sight somewhere. I slipped down a side ravine, and keeping pretty well at the edge of the canyon, worked my way along until I got up above the men. I soon saw that there'd been quite a bunch of horses pastured there, and going along a little further found thirty or forty head feeding in the canyon. I went pretty careful, because I didn't know but I might run onto a horse guard any minute, for it didn't seem likely that these horses would stay down in the canyon there unless they was herded. They'd be more likely to get up onto the prairie where the grass was better.
"After I had seen the horses I went on back till I got nearly opposite where the fire was, and then I crept up on a little ridge of sand and looked over to count the men and see what they was doing, and how they was fixed. I lay there, I guess, fifteen or twenty minutes, trying to take the whole thing in, and then suddenly I heard a little rustle in the grass near me, and as I drew back out of sight, a couple of men landed on my back and yelled plenty for help. One of them was smart enough to grab my gun and throw it away, and we just scuffled around in the sand there for half a minute or two, and then the whole bunch that had been at the fire jumped on me, and I give up.
"They hauled me over to the fire, and stood around looking at me and calling me names, and presently Doc Middleton says, says he: 'Why, I know that old fool; he works over to Wilson's ranch. What were you doing,' says he, mighty mad, 'spying around this here camp? For two cents I'd blow you full of holes;' and he pulled out a six-shooter and stuck it in my face. I was some uneasy, because I knew they was a bad lot, and they was liable to kill me right there, and hide me in the sandhills, and then skin out of the country; but the fact is they'd been there so long without being bothered that I expect Doc thought he owned the country. And at last after a whole heap of talk they tied me up to a wagon wheel close to the fire, and Doc told two of the men to sit by me and watch me all night, and to kill me if I moved.
"I sat there most of the night. The two fellows that was guarding me spelled each other; one would sleep for an hour, and then the other would wake him and give him the watch, and then he'd sleep; and pretty soon they both went to sleep.
"Whenever I got a chance I worked some at the ropes, mainly those on my hands, and at last I got 'em free, and then I loosened the rope around my body; but I still sat there for I wanted both them fellows to get good and sound asleep before I commenced to sneak. By this time the fire had died down, so that it didn't give no light to amount to nothing. I'd just cast off the ropes and worked myself around behind the wagon, mighty slow, and was beginning to crawl off, when all of a sudden I heard horses coming, and the first I knew, the camp was surrounded. Doc and his gang didn't make no fight at all; they was too surprised. They was all of 'em brought up to the fire and tied up there, same as I'd been a little while before. Of course, as soon as the fellows came into the camp I holloard, because I didn't want 'em to be shooting at me. By the time the camp was captured it began to get light. Doc sat there by the fire and talked, and told Wilson what an outrage it was that a band of robbers should attack a lot of peaceable cowpunchers the way they had them. He swore he'd have the law on 'em just as soon as he could get to the Platte; but Wilson told him that he was liable never to get nearer to the Platte than the branches of one of them cedar trees up on the bluff.
"I told Wilson the way they'd mistreated me, and told him about the horses up the canyon. They was fetched down; they had all sorts of brands on 'em, but not one that belonged in the country. It was always my belief that them fellows stole our horses and sent them down into Colorado, trading 'em off, maybe, for horses that they had stolen down there. Anyhow, there wasn't a particle of evidence in the camp that we could find that justified hanging one of them men.
"Wilson gave Doc and his men a good talking to, and told them they'd have to leave the country. He gave 'em three weeks to get out, and then told them that if they was found there after that, they'd be killed. Well, they left within the time set, and that part of the country hasn't never been troubled with 'em since, though I have heard of Doc in a good many places since, and always with a pretty tough name."
Jack had long ago finished his breakfast, and the sun was now high in the heavens and beginning to beat down with fervor on the barren, yellow plain. After Hugh had washed the dishes, he said to Jack:—
"Now, I'll tell you what I want to do, son; I want to give you a good rubbing all over, to take the soreness out of you. After I have done that you'd better lie down and go to sleep again, and then toward evening maybe you can put on your clothes and walk around a bit, and to-morrow, if you feel all right, we'll start on again. I've found a good crossing up above here, and just as soon as you are able to travel we'll roll out." Accordingly, Hugh gave Jack a hard rubbing from head to foot, anointing the chafed and scratched parts of his body with sheep tallow, to which he added the crushed leaves and stems of a certain plant which he solemnly told Jack was his medicine, rolled Jack up in a blanket and left him to sleep. When the boy awoke again he felt fresh, and could move his arms and legs without much pain. Hugh helped him dress, and they walked a little distance up and down the river from camp; and after supper that night Jack said he certainly felt well enough to go on in the morning.