Over the Rocky Mountains: Wandering Will in the Land of the Redskin by Ballantyne (ereader for android .TXT) 📗

this reflected the gorgeous golden clouds that were lit up by the setting sun, it appeared like a stream of liquid fire meandering over the plains, while, far, far away on the hazy and glowing horizon—so far that it seemed as if a whole world lay between—a soft blue line was faintly visible. It might have been mistaken for the distant sea, or a long low cloud of azure blue, but Will Osten knew that, however unlike to them it might appear, this was in reality the first glimpse of the Rocky Mountains! The pleasantest sight of all, however, was a group of ten or a dozen buffalo, which grazed, in all the lazy ease of fancied security, at the side of a knoll not more than three hundred yards distant. As our travellers lay, with bated breath and beating hearts, gazing at these animals, dreaming of feasting on fat things, and waiting for a shot, they became aware of a low murmuring sound somewhat resembling distant thunder, but softer and more continuous. On scanning the plains more intently they perceived that here and there were other scattered groups of buffalo, more or less concealed by knolls, while in the extreme distance a black line, which they had at first mistaken for bushes, proved to be an immense herd of living creatures, whose pawings and bellowings reached them like a faint murmur.

Suddenly the animals close to them sprang into the air as if they had received an electric shock. At the same instant a white cloudlet of smoke rose above the grass, and a few seconds later the sharp crack of the trapper’s rifle broke on their ears. The huge ungainly brutes bounded away, leaving one of their number behind. He writhed violently, and then lay gently down. A moment of suspense followed, for he might rise again and run beyond pursuit, as buffalo often do under a deadly wound! But no! he curled his tail, gasped once or twice, and rolled over on his side.

Knives were out in a moment, and the whole party rushed like wolves upon the prey. First, they rolled the animal upon his brisket, slit his hide along the spine, peeled it down one side, and cut off a piece large enough to form a wrapper for the meat. Next the flesh on each side of the spine was pared off, and the tongue cut out. The axe was then applied to his ribs—the heart, the fat, the tender loins and other parts were taken out; then the great marrow-bones were cut from his legs, and the whole being wrapped in the green hide, was slung on a pole, and carried by Will Osten and the trapper to the nearest suitable camping ground. This was on the edge of a grove of white pine by the side of the clear rivulet under the shade of a woody hill. Here, before darkness had completely set in, Will and his new friend kindled a great fire and prepared supper, while Larry and Bunco went off to fetch and tether the horses.

Now, reader, you must understand that it was no light duty which lay before the wanderers that evening. They had to make up for a good many missed meals. The word “ravenous” scarcely indicates their condition! They were too hungry to lose time, too tired to speak. Everything, therefore, was done with quiet vigour. Steaks were impaled on pieces of stick, and stuck up before the fire to roast. When one side of a steak was partially done, pieces of it were cut off and devoured while the other was cooking. At the expense of a little burning of the lips, and a good deal of roasting of the face, the severe pangs of hunger were thus slightly allayed, then each man sat down before the blaze with his back against a tree, his hunting-knife in one hand, a huge rib or steak in the other, and quietly but steadily and continuously devoured beef!

“Och! when did I iver ait so much before?” exclaimed Larry, dropping a peeled rib.

“What! not goin’ to give in yet?” said Big Ben, setting up another rib to roast; “why, that’ll never do. You must eat till daylight, if you would be fit to travel in the prairie. Our wild meat never pains one. You may eat as much as you can hold. That’s always the way we do in the far west. Sometimes we starve for six or eight days at a time, and then when we get plenty, we lay in good store and pack it well down, always beginnin’ wi’ the best pieces first, for fear that some skulkin’ Redskin should kill us before we’ve had time to enjoy them. See here, you’ve only had the first course; rest a bit while I prepare the second.”

While he spoke, Ben was breaking up the marrow-bones with his hatchet, and laying bare the beautiful rolls of “trappers’ butter” within. Having extracted about a pound of marrow, he put it into a gallon of water, and, mixing along with it a quantity of the buffalo’s blood and a little salt, set it on the fire to boil. In a short time this savoury soup was ready. Turn not up your noses at it, “ye gentlemen of England, who live at home at ease,” (though, by the way, we doubt the reality of that “ease,” which causes so much dyspepsia amongst you that good food becomes unpalatable and strong food nauseous), but believe us when we tell you that the soup was super-excellent.

“Musha!” exclaimed Larry, when he tasted the first spoonful, “I feel exactly as if I had ait nothin’ at all yit—only goin’ to begin!” And with that he and his comrades attacked and consumed the soup until their faces shone again with grease and gladness.

“That’ll do now,” said Larry in a decided tone, as he rose and stretched himself, preparatory to filling his beloved pipe—“not a dhrop nor a bite more on any account.”

“Is you stuffed full?” asked Bunco.

“Pretty nigh,” replied Larry, glancing at his friend with an inquiring look; “seems to me that you have overdone it.”

“Me is pretty tight,” said Bunco languidly.

“Come, come,” cried the trapper, “don’t shirk your victuals. There’s one more course, and then you can rest if you have a mind to.”

So saying, the indefatigable man took up the intestines of the buffalo, which had been properly prepared for the purpose, turned them inside out, and proceeded to stuff them with strips of tender loin well salted and peppered. The long sausage thus hastily made was hung in festoons before the fire, and roasted until it was thoroughly browned. Portions were then cut off and set down before the company. When each thought of beginning he felt as though the swallowing of a single bite were utterly impossible, but when each had actually begun he could not stop, but continued eating until all was finished, and then wished for more, while Benjamin Hicks chuckled heartily to witness the success of his cookery and the extent of his friends’ powers.

Ah, it is all very well, reader, for you to say “Humph! nonsense,” but go you and wander for a year or two among the Rocky Mountains, acquire the muscles of a trapper and the digestion of an ostrich, then starve yourself for a few days, and get the chance of a “feed” such as we have feebly described, and see whether you won’t come home (if you ever come home) saying, “Well, after all, truth is strange, stranger than fiction!”

It need scarcely be said that the solace of the pipe was sought immediately after the meal was concluded by Will, Larry, and Bunco; but Big Ben did not join them. He had starved longer than they, and intended, as he said, to eat all night!

“Well,” observed Larry, as he extended himself at full length before the blaze, and resting his right elbow on the ground and his head on his hand, smoked in calm felicity; “I’ve often found that there’s nothin’ like tiredness to make a man enjoy rest, but, faix, it’s this night I’ve larned, as I niver did before, that there’s nothin’ like starvation to mak wan enjoy his victuals.”

“Eight, Larry,” said Will Osten with a laugh; “upon my word I think it would be worth while to live always on the plan of missing our meals each alternate day, in order to enjoy them more thoroughly on the other days.”

“If city men would go on that plan,” observed the trapper, gravely tearing the flesh from a rib with his teeth, and speaking at the same time, “there would be no use for doctors.”

“Ah, then, think of that now; wouldn’t it be a rail hard case for the poor doctors?” said Larry, with a sly glance at Will.

Bunco grinned at this, and observed that it was “time for hims be go sleep.” Whereupon he rolled his blanket about him and lay down with his feet to the fire. Will Osten also lay down and fell asleep almost immediately. Larry, too, stretched himself out in repose, leaving Big Ben still engaged with the buffalo beef.

The night was rather cold. In course of time Will Osten awoke, and called to the trapper to mend the fire, which he did, and then resumed his former occupation. Once or twice after that, one and another of the slumberers awoke, and, looking up sleepily for a few seconds, beheld the enduring man still hard at work. The last to lift his head that night was Larry. The puzzled Irishman gazed in mute amazement during the unusually long period of half a minute, for Benjamin Hicks still sat there, glittering in the light of the camp-fire, grave as a Redskin, and busy as ever with the bones!