philosopher.
We had a pleasant journey, although sometimes pressed pretty hard by hunger. However, Gabriel, Roche, and I were too happy to complain. We had just escaped from a bitter and long slavery, beside which, we were heartily tired of the lean and tough dogs of the Arrapahoes, which are the only food of that tribe during the winter. The Apaches, who had heard of our exploits, shewed us great respect; but what still more captivated their good graces, was the Irishman’s skill in playing the fiddle. It so happened that a Mexican officer having, during the last fall, been recalled from Monterey to Santa Fé, had left his violin. It was a very fine instrument, an old Italian piece of workmanship, and worth, I am convinced, a great deal of money.
At the request of the owner, one of the present officers had taken charge of the violin and packed it up, together with his trunks, in one of the Cibolero’s waggons. We soon became aware of the circumstance, and when we could not get anything to eat, music became our consolation. Tired as we were, we would all of us, “at least the Pale-faces,” dance merrily for hours together, after we had halted, till poor Roche, exhausted, could no longer move his fingers.
We were at last relieved of our obligatory fast, and enabled to look with contempt upon the humble prickly pears, which for many a long day had been our only food. Daily now we came across herds of fat buffaloes, and great was our sport in pursuing the huge lord of the prairies. One of them, by the bye, gored my horse to death, and I would likely have put an end to my adventures, had it not been for the certain aim of Gabriel. I had foolishly substituted my bow and arrows for the rifle, that I might show my skill to my companions. My vanity cost me dear; for though the bull was a fine one, and had seven arrows driven through his neck, I lost one of the best horses of the West, and my right leg was considerably hurt.
Having been informed that there was a large city or commonwealth of prairie dogs directly in our route, I started on ahead with my two companions, to visit these republicans. We had a double object in view: first, a desire to examine one of the republics about which prairie travellers have said so much; and, secondly, to obtain something to eat, as the flesh of these animals was said to be excellent.
Our road for six or seven miles wound up the sides of a gently ascending mountain. On arriving at the summit, we found a beautiful table-land spread out, reaching for miles in every direction before us. The soil appeared to be uncommonly rich, and was covered with a luxurious growth of musqueet trees. The grass was of the curly musquito species, the sweetest and most nutritious of all the different kinds of that grass, and the dogs never locate their towns or cities except where it grows in abundance, as it is their only food.
We had proceeded but a short distance after reaching this beautiful prairie, before we came upon the outskirts of the commonwealth. A few scattered dogs were seen scampering in, and, by their short and sharp yelps, giving a general alarm to the whole community.
The first cry of danger from the outskirts was soon taken up in the centre of the city, and now nothing was to be seen in any direction but a dashing and scampering of the mercurial and excitable citizens of the place, each to his lodge or burrow. Far as the eye could reach was spread the city, and in every direction the scene was the same. We rode leisurely along until we had reached the more thickly settled portion of the city, when we halted, and after taking the bridles from our horses to allow them to graze, we prepared for a regular attack upon its inhabitants.
The burrows were not more than fifteen yards apart, with well-trodden paths leading in different directions, and I even thought I could discover something like regularity in the laying out of the streets. We sat down upon a bank under the shade of a musqueet tree, and leisurely surveyed the scene before us. Our approach had driven every one in our immediate vicinity to his home, but some hundred yards off, the small mound of earth in front of a burrow was each occupied by a dog sitting I straight up on his hinder legs, and coolly looking about him to ascertain the cause of the recent commotion. Every now and then some citizen, more venturous than his neighbour, would leave his lodge on a flying visit to a companion, apparently to exchange a few words, and then scamper back as fast as his legs would carry him.
By-and-by, as we kept perfectly still, some of our nearer neighbours were seen cautiously poking their heads from out their holes and looking cunningly, and at the same time inquisitively, about them. After some time, a dog would emerge from the entrance of his domicile, squat upon his looking-out place, shake his head, and commence yelping.
For three hours we remained watching the movements of these animals, and occasionally picking one of them off with our rifles. No less than nine were obtained by the party. One circumstance I will mention as singular in the extreme, and which shows the social relationship which exists among these animals, as well as the regard they have one for another.
One of them had perched himself directly upon the pile of earth in front of his hole, sitting up, and offering a fair mark, while a companion’s head, too timid, perhaps, to expose himself farther; was seen poking out of the entrance. A well-directed shot carried away the entire top of the head of the first dog, and knocked him some two or three feet from his post, perfectly dead. While reloading, the other daringly came out, seized his companion by one of his legs, and before we could arrive at the hole, had drawn him completely out of reach, although we tried to twist him out with a ramrod.
There was a feeling in this act—a something human, which raised the animals in my estimation; and never after did I attempt to kill one of them, except when driven by extreme hunger.
The prairie dog is about the size of a rabbit, heavier perhaps, more compact, and with much shorter legs. In appearance, it resembles the ground-hog of the north, although a trifle smaller than that animal. In their habits, the prairie dogs are social, never live alone like other animals, but are always found in villages or large settlements. They are a wild, frolicksome set of fellows when undisturbed, restless, and ever on the move. They seem to take especial delight in chattering away the time, and visiting about, from hole to hole, to gossip and talk over one another’s affairs; at least, so their actions would indicate. Old hunters say that when they find a good location for a village, and no water is handy, they dig a well to supply the wants of the community.
On several occasions, I have crept up close to one of their villages, without being observed, that I might watch their movements. Directly in the centre of one of them, I particularly noticed a very large dog, sitting in front of his door, or entrance to his burrow, and by his own actions and those of his neighbours, it really looked as though he was the president, mayor, or chief; at all events, he was the “big dog” of the place.
For at least an hour, I watched the movements of this little community; during that time, the large dog I have mentioned received at least a dozen visits from his fellow-dogs, who would stop and chat with him a few moments, and then run off to their domiciles. All this while he never left his post for a single minute, and I thought I could discover a gravity in his deportment, not discernible in those by whom he was addressed. Far be it from me to say that the visits he received were upon business, or having anything to do with the local government of the village; but it certainly appeared as if such was the case. If any animal is endowed with reasoning powers, or has any system of laws regulating the body politic, it is the prairie dog.
In different parts of the village the members of it were seen gambolling, frisking, and visiting about, occasionally turning heels over head into their holes, and appearing to have all sorts of fun among themselves. Owls of a singular species were also seen among them; they did not appear to join in their sports in any way, but still seemed to be on good terms, and as they were constantly entering and coming out of the same holes, they might be considered as members of the same family, or, at least, guests. Rattlesnakes, too, dwell among them; but the idea generally received among the Mexicans, that they live upon terms of companionship with the dogs, is quite ridiculous, and without any foundation.
The snakes I look upon as loafers, not easily shaken off by the regular inhabitants, and they make use of the dwellings of
