Oscar and his guide enjoyed some splendid runs after they gave up still-hunting and took to the saddle; and Big Thompson, who had been surprised at the skill the boy exhibited in stalking, and the success that attended him, was perfectly astonished when he saw him ride. His seat was easy and graceful; and, although he seemed to make no effort to keep it, he was never unhorsed. In the ardor of the chase he seemed to forget everything except the game before him.
With his bridle flying loose in the wind, and his hands grasping his rifle, which he carried ready for a shot, he would press close upon the flanks of a flying herd, single out the best buck in it, and follow him at headlong speed 270through the thickest woods, over the roughest ground, and down declivities that in his sober moments he would have hesitated to descend at a walk; and when at last the elk’s trot was broken and his spirit began to flag, the loud report of the breech loader would announce that that run was over.
It was surprising how soon he and the pony came to have unlimited confidence in each other. The little horse entered into the sport with as much eagerness as Oscar did; and he would face every thicket and take every leap that came in his way, all the while straining every nerve to bring his rider to close quarters with the animal he had selected. And it was surprising, too, how quickly he learned which animal it was that Oscar wanted to bring to bay.
After he had followed him through a few of his windings, guided by his rider’s hand, he would take up the pursuit on his own responsibility, and stick close to that particular elk, paying no attention to the other members of the herd.
During these runs Thompson always kept 271a little in the boy’s rear, advising and encouraging him, except when that big elk was started, and then he would take the lead, if he could, and try his best to secure him; but this elk seemed to bear a charmed life.
A good many bullets had been sent after him, and sometimes the hunters were positive that he had been hard hit; but the next time they jumped him—and they saw him almost every time they went to the upper end of the valley—he would throw his heavy antlers back on his shoulders, stick his nose straight out before him, and trot off as rapidly as ever.
“I am afraid we’ll have to give it up,” said Oscar one day, as they were slowly working their way homeward after another unsuccessful attempt to bag the big elk.
They had not been entirely unsuccessful, for Oscar had brought down a specimen with which he would have been quite satisfied if he had never seen that other buck.
This specimen was slung across the mule’s back. It was easier to get the game home in that way than it was to haul it on a drag.
“Look a-yere, perfessor!” exclaimed the 272guide. “Ye said somethin’ t’other day ’bout sendin’ me back to the fort, didn’t ye?”
“Yes, I did,” replied Oscar. “There are several persons in the States who ought to know what I am doing out here; and besides, I believe there are letters for me at the fort.”
“All right,” said the guide. “Now jest take my advice, an’ let that ole buck alone till I come back. If ye keep on foolin’ with him the fust thing ye know he’ll take that herd o’ his’n off to some other valley, an’ then ye’ll have to give him up, sure. It’s a wonder to me that he haint tuk ’em off long ago. If he stays yere we’ll have him as sartin as he’s a elk.”
“If we can get him when you come back why can’t we get him now?” asked Oscar.
“Kase we aint got what we want, that’s why. I’ve got somethin’ to hum that’ll fetch a muel-deer every time; an’ seems to me that it had oughter fetch that thar buck too. When I come back I’ll bring it with me.”
“What in the world is it?”
“Wal, now, perfessor, if I promise ye, 273honor bright, that ye shall have that thar buck to take back to the States with ye, hadn’t ye oughter be satisfied with that?”
Oscar thought he had, but still it was hard work to control his curiosity.
The boy had often talked of sending his guide to the fort to mail some letters he had written, and to bring back any addressed to himself that the colonel might have in his possession; and Big Thompson had as often declared his readiness to start as soon as the weather and the travelling would permit.
There had been several days during the last three weeks on which it stormed so violently that the hunters were confined within doors.
Oscar passed those stormy days in writing letters, and jotting down in his diary the particulars of such hunting expeditions as he thought worth preserving, while the guide smoked his pipe and meditated.
After these storms the guide’s chances for making the journey seemed greatly lessened.
The snow was now more than a foot deep on 274a level in the valley; and Big Thompson said that in the gorges, and on the exposed prairie, where the wind had a full sweep, the drifts must be twenty feet deep.
“An’ the longer I wait the wuss the goin’ will git,” said he, as he lay on his blanket that night, watching Oscar, who was busy with the elk he had shot during the day. “I’ll try it to-morrer.”
And he did.
When it was four o clock by Oscar’s watch breakfa............