Chapter XXXI: The Charging Buffalo

Scouts went out at dawn, and were back again before the camp had finished breakfasting. Their report made the hunters hasten preparations. Already the question as to which ones of the Brabant-Perier party should take part in the hunt had been settled. Only two horses were available. Louis’ new one had gone lame, and one of Neil’s was not a good buffalo pony, being gun shy and easily frightened. Neither Mr. Perier nor Walter had ever hunted buffalo, while Louis and Neil were skilled in the sport. So it was right that the latter two should go. Walter was disappointed of course. He would have liked to take part in the hunt. But he comforted himself with the thought that there would be other opportunities.

The caravan was just south of the Turtle River, a tributary of the Red, and a number of miles west of the latter stream, in slightly rolling, though open country. A low, irregular ridge shut off the view to the south and hid the buffalo. After the hunters got away, the women, children, and few men who had remained behind, started on, with the carts. They wanted to be in readiness to collect the meat before the hot sun spoiled it, and they were eager to watch the sport. This time the carts did not move single file, but jounced over the prairie in any order their drivers saw fit.

Walter and Raoul were as anxious as anyone for a view of the hunt. They hitched up Neil’s pony and got away as quickly as possible, leaving Mr. Perier and Mrs. Brabant to follow slowly with the other cart and lame horse. Elise, Marie, and Max went with the two boys, while Jeanne remained with her mother.

The boys’ cart was among the first to top the rise. The sight revealed almost took Walter’s breath away. The prairie beyond the ridge was covered with buffalo in a dense, dark mass. They were feeding peacefully, moving slowly along towards the southeast.

“Where are the hunters?” asked Walter.

Raoul pointed to the southwest. “Behind those little hills,” he said confidently. “The wind is east. They have gone around to approach from that way, so the beasts will not get their scent. There they come!”

Figures of horsemen were appearing over the top of one of the low hills. On they came, a long, irregular line, riding easily down hill at a lope. As they reached level ground they broke into a gallop. The buffalo nearest the hunters were taking alarm. They were crowding forward, the bulls on the outskirts of the herd pawing the ground and tossing their great heads. The horsemen broke into a run. They charged recklessly across the prairie, regardless of gopher holes. Those _bois brulés_ could certainly ride, thought Walter in admiration. He wondered whether Louis and Neil were among the foremost. At that distance he could not tell.

Suddenly the buffalo everywhere took fright. At a clumsy, galloping gait they were away. They crowded, wheeled, milled, stampeded, hoofs flying, shaggy heads tossing. In a few moments the foremost of the hunters were among them, shouting, yelling, firing, horses plunging and shying. The whole mass was in wild commotion, sweeping on towards the low ridge where the carts waited and the excited spectators looked on. With the thundering of hoofs, the bellowing of the beasts, the shouts and yells of the hunters, the continuous popping of guns, the clouds of smoke and dust lit up by the flashes of firing, the prairie had become pandemonium.

Never had Walter dreamed of such a sight. His blood was tingling. He breathed fast and excitedly. Elise stood beside him, her hands clasped tightly together, frightened yet fascinated. Marie and Raoul danced up and down, and little Max sat on the edge of the cart and shrieked at the top of his voice in his excitement.

The great band was breaking up into smaller droves and groups. In every direction they wheeled and fled. The hunters, riding recklessly, swaying in their saddles, loading and firing at full speed, pursued them.

One group of six or eight frightened beasts was close by, just at the foot of the low ridge. A horseman dashed towards them. Walter had just time to recognize that blue-bonneted red head, and then, as Neil fired, the little band broke and scattered. One big bull was pounding up the slope, straight towards the cart.

Walter was standing on one side, Raoul on the other of the nervous, excited pony, which was pawing, snorting, twisting about in the shafts, alarmed and uneasy at the sight below. It had not occurred to either boy that he would have a chance to do any shooting. Both of the guns were in the cart.

When the buffalo charged up the slope, Walter sprang back. As he seized his gun, the panic-stricken pony jumped to one side, sending Raoul sprawling, wheeled, overturned the cart, and was off. Walter saw Max hurtle through the air, and land right in the path of the oncoming buffalo. As the child struck the ground, Elise darted towards him.

With shaking fingers Walter slipped a charge of powder and ball into the muzzle of his gun and primed it. His whole body was trembling. He must not miss. A story Lajimonière had told of a fight with an infuriated buffalo flashed through his mind. “I aimed behind the ear,” the Canadian had said. Where was the ear in that shaggy mass of hair?

The bull, at the crest of the ridge, paused for an instant to paw the ground, shake its huge, ugly head, and bellow defiance at the little group in its pathway. Forcing himself to be steady, deliberate, Walter pulled the trigger. It pulled hard. The flint struck the steel. Sparks flew in every direction. There was a flash, a roar, a bellow. The buffalo plunged forward, and went down.

When Walter recovered from the shock of firing—his primitive, flintlock musket kicked like a mule—the great, dark, hairy bulk lay almost at his feet. Had he hit behind the ear? He would take no chances. The muscles of the big body were twitching. Hurriedly reloading, he fired again, the gun muzzle almost against the buffalo’s head. An instant later there came another report. Raoul had picked himself up, seized his gun, that had been thrown out of the cart, and fired at the fallen beast. He missed it in his excitement, by a wider margin than he missed Walter.

Walter took no heed of the wild shot. His only thought was of Elise and Max. He turned to find Elise stooped over her little brother, her arms around him. When she realized that the danger was over, she sank down in a heap in the grass. Max wriggled from her arms and sat up.

“Elise,” cried Walter, “what were you trying to do?”

“Drag Max out of the way,” she answered simply. “Didn’t you see? That terrible beast was coming straight towards him!”

“And straight towards you, too. Didn’t you think of that?”

“She is the bravest girl I ever saw,” exclaimed Marie Brabant. Marie, who had been on the other side of Raoul, had fled to safety, and had not returned until the danger was over.

“No, no,” Elise protested. “I was terribly frightened when I saw that huge, ugly beast coming up the hill. But when Max fell out of the cart, I thought he was going to be killed. I have looked after him ever since Mother died you know, Walter,” she added, as if in excuse for her own bravery.

“You are the bravest girl I ever knew,” Marie repeated emphatically, “even if you are afraid of snakes.”

But Elise had turned to her little brother. “You aren’t hurt, are you, Max?” she asked anxiously.

“Just my shoulder where I fell on it,” the lad replied bravely. “I think——”

He was interrupted by Neil’s shout. Unnoticed by the others, the Scotch boy had ridden up the hill. He dismounted beside the dead buffalo.

“It was all my fault,” he said contritely. “I ought not to have driven the beasts this way. I saw you, but I was after a cow and didn’t notice that bull turning towards you. I never thought of his charging up hill. I didn’t know you were in any danger, till I heard the shot and looked up here. You’ve made a good kill, Walter. He’s a big fellow. And you certainly kept your head. I’m not sure I wouldn’t have lost mine, if I had been in your place.” This was a generous admission from anyone as proud of his courage and prowess as Neil MacKay was. At that moment, however, Neil was not in the least proud of himself. His carelessness had brought peril to his friends.