I reckon. It’s funny that them ar city chaps don’t know nothin’ ’bout what’s goin’ on out here; an’ it shows that all the larnin’ in the world aint got out o’ books. Send one of ’em here, an’ I could show him a thing or two he never heern tell on. But I must be gettin’ breakfast, ’cause we’ll be off ag’in soon; an’ on the prairy every feller has to look out fur himself. You can’t pull a ring in the wall here, an’ have a chap with white huntin’ shirt an’ morocker moccasins on come up an’ say: ‘Did you ring, sir?’ An’ how them ar fellers knowed which room to come to in them big hotels, is something I can’t get through my head. Thar’s no big bell to call a feller to grub here. Take one of them city chaps an’ give him a rifle, an’ pint out over the prairy an’ tell him to go an’ hunt up his breakfast, an’ how would he come out? Could he travel by the sun, or tell the pints of the compass by the stars? Could he lasso an’ ride a wild mustang, or shoot a Injun plumb atween the eyes at two hundred an’ fifty yards? No! I reckon not! Wal, thar’s a heap o’ things I couldn’t do; an’ it shows that every man had oughter stick to his own business. It’s all owin’ to a man’s bringin’ up.”
While the trapper spoke he had been raking together the fire that had nearly gone out; and having got it fairly started, he began the work of getting breakfast. The boys, after rolling up their blankets and packing them away in the wagon, amused themselves in watching the movements of the emigrants, who now began their preparations for their day’s journey. By the time Uncle James awoke, the trapper pronounced their breakfast ready. After they had done ample justice to the homely meal (and it was astonishing what an appetite the fresh invigorating air of the prairie gave them), the boys packed the cooking utensils away in the wagon while the trapper began to harness the mules. This was an undertaking that a less experienced man would have found to be extremely hazardous, for the animals persisted in keeping their heels toward him, and it was only by skillful maneuvering that Dick succeeded in getting them hitched to the wagon. By the time this was accomplished, Uncle James and the boys had saddled their horses and followed the trapper, who drove off as though he perfectly understood what he was about, leaving the train to follow at its leisure.
Dick acted as if he had again found himself among friends from whom he had long been separated; but it was evident that sorrow was mingled with his joy, for on every side his eye rested on the improvements of civilization. The road was lined with fine, well-stocked farms, and the prairie over which his father had hunted the buffalo and fought the Indian, had been turned up by the plow, and would soon be covered with waving crops. No doubt the trapper’s thoughts wandered into the future, for, as the boys rode up beside the wagon, he said, with something like a sigh:
“Things aint as they used to be, youngsters. I can ’member the time when thar was’nt a fence within miles of here, an’ a feller could go out an’ knock over a buffaler fur breakfast jest as easy as that farmer over thar could find one of his sheep. But the ax an’ plow have made bad work with a fine country, the buffaler an’ Injun have been pushed back t’wards the mountains, an’ it won’t be long afore thar’ll be no room fur sich as me; an’ we won’t be missed neither, ’cause when the buffaler an’ beaver are gone thar’ll be nothin’ fur us to do. These farms will keep pushin’ out all the while; an’ when folks, sittin’ in their snug houses beside their warm fires, hear tell of the Injuns that onst owned this country, nobody will ever think that sich fellers as me an’ Bill Lawson an’ ole Bob Kelly ever lived. If ole Bill was here now, he would say: ‘Let’s go back to the mountains, Dick, an’ stay thar.’ He wouldn’t like to see his ole huntin’ grounds wasted in this way, an’ I don’t want to see it neither. But I know that the Rocky Mountains an’ grizzly bars will last as long as I shall, an’ thar’ll be no need of trappers an’ hunters an’ guides arter that.”
Dick became silent after this, and it was not until the train halted for the noon’s rest, that he recovered his usual spirits
CHAPTER III
Antelope Hunting
GRADUALLY the train left the improvements of civilization behind, and, at the end of three weeks, it was miles outside of a fence. Here the trapper was in his natural element. He felt, as he expressed, “like a young one jest out o’ school,” adding, that all he needed was “one glimpse of a Comanche or Cheyenne to make him feel perfectly nat’ral.”
In accordance with the promise he had made Frank before leaving St. Joseph, he now took Pete (that was the name the latter had given his horse) under his especial charge; and every morning, at the first peep of day, the boys saw him galloping over the prairie, firing his rifle as fast as he could reload, as if in pursuit of an imaginary herd of buffaloes. At first the spirited animal objected to this mode of treatment, and made the most desperate efforts to unseat his rider; but the trapper, who had broken more than one wild mustang, was perfectly at home on horseback, and, after a few exercises of this kind, Pete was turned over to his young master, with the assurance that he was ready to begin buffalo hunting. According to Frank’s idea, the animal had improved considerably under the trapper’s system of training, for he would hardly wait for his rider to be fairly in the saddle before he would start off at the top of his speed. The boys, who considered themselves fully able to do any thing that had ever been accomplished by any one else, having seen Dick load and fire his rifle while riding at full speed, began to imitate his example, and in a short time learned the art to perfection. In addition to this, each boy looked upon his horse as the better animal, and the emigrants were witnesses to many a race between them, in which Sleepy Sam, as Archie called his horse, always came off winner. But Frank kept up the contest, and at every possible opportunity the horses were “matched,” until they had learned their parts so well, that every time they found themselves together, they would start off on a race without waiting for the word from their riders.
One morning, just after the train had left the camp, as the boys were riding beside the wagon, listening to a story the trapper was relating, the latter suddenly stopped, and, pointing toward a distant swell, said: “Do you see that ar’, youngsters?”
The boys, after straining their eyes in vain, brought their field-glass into requisition, and finally discovered an object moving slowly along through the high grass; but the distance was so great, they could not determine what it was.
“That’s a prong-horn,” said the trapper at length. “An’ now, Frank,” he continued, “if you’ll lend me that ar hoss, I’ll show you that all the huntin’ in the world aint larnt in that leetle patch of timber around Lawrence.”
Frank at once dismounted, and Dick, after securing his rifle, sprung into the saddle, saying:
“Come along easy-like, youngsters, an’ when I tell you, you get off an’ hide behind your hoss.”
Frank mounted Sleepy Sam behind Archie, and they followed the trapper, who led the way at an easy gallop. Useless, at his master’s command, remained with the wagon. They rode for a mile at a steady pace, and then, seeing that the game had discovered them, the boys, at a signal from the trapper, stopped and dismounted, while Dick kept on alone, his every movement closely watched by Frank and Archie, who, having often read of the skill required in hunting antelopes, were anxious to see how it was done. The trapper rode on for about half a mile further, and then the boys saw him dismount, unbuckle the bridle, and hobble his horse so that he would not stray away. He then threw himself on his hands and knees, and disappeared. A quarter of an hour afterward the boys saw his ’coon-skin cap waving above the grass. If this was intended to attract the attention of the game, it did not meet with immediate success, for the antelopes continued to feed leisurely up the swell, and finally some of their number disappeared behind it. The boys regarded this as conclusive evidence that the trapper’s plan had failed; but at length one of the antelopes, which stood a little apart from the others, and appeared to be acting as sentinel, uttered a loud snort, which instantly brought every member of the herd to his side. They remained huddled together for several moments, as if in consultation,
