Plans and prospects--Dick becomes home-sick, and Henrimetaphysical--Indians attack the camp--A blow-up. On the following day the Indians gave themselvesup to unlimited feasting, in consequence of thearrival of a large body of hunters with an immensesupply of buffalo meat. It was a regular day of rejoicing.
Upwards of six hundred buffaloes had been killedand as the supply of meat before their arrival had beenample, the camp was now overflowing with plenty.
Feasts were given by the chiefs, and the medicine menwent about the camp uttering loud cries, which weremeant to express gratitude to the Great Spirit for thebountiful supply of food. They also carried a portionof meat to the aged and infirm who were unable to huntfor themselves, and had no young men in their familycircle to hunt for them.
This arrival of the hunters was a fortunate circumstance,as it put the Indians in great good-humour, andinclined them to hold friendly intercourse with thetrappers, who for some time continued to drive a brisktrade in furs. Having no market for the disposal oftheir furs, the Indians of course had more than theyknew what to do with, and were therefore glad to exchangethose of the most beautiful and valuable kindfor a mere trifle, so that the trappers laid aside theirtraps for a time and devoted themselves to traffic.
Meanwhile Joe Blunt and his friends made preparationsfor their return journey.
"Ye see," remarked Joe to Henri and Dick, as theysat beside the fire in Pee-eye-em's lodge, and feasted ona potful of grasshopper soup, which the great chief'ssquaw had just placed before them--"ye see, my calc'lationsis as follows. Wot with trappin' beavers andhuntin', we three ha' made enough to set us up, an itlikes us, in the Mustang Valley--""Ha!" interrupted Dick, remitting for a few secondsthe use of his teeth in order to exercise histongue--ha! Joe, but it don't like me! What, give up ahunter's life and become a farmer? I should think not!""Bon!" ejaculated Henri, but whether the remarkhad reference to the grasshopper soup or the sentimentwe cannot tell.
"Well," continued Joe, commencing to devour a largebuffalo steak with a hunter's appetite, "ye'll please yourselves,lads, as to that; but as I wos sayin', we've got apowerful lot o' furs, an' a big pack o' odds and ends forthe Injuns we chance to meet with by the way, an'
powder and lead to last us a twelvemonth, besides fivegood horses to carry us an' our packs over the plains;so if it's agreeable to you, I mean to make a bee-line forthe Mustang Valley. We're pretty sure to meet withBlackfeet on the way, and if we do we'll try to makepeace between them an' the Snakes. I 'xpect it'll bepretty well on for six weeks afore we git to home, sowe'll start to-morrow.""Dat is fat vill do ver' vell," said Henri; "vill youplease donnez me one petit morsel of steak.""I'm ready for anything, Joe," cried Dick; "you areleader. Just point the way, and I'll answer for two o'
us followin' ye--eh! won't we, Crusoe?""We will," remarked the dog quietly.
"How comes it," inquired Dick, "that these Indiansdon't care for our tobacco?""They like their own better, I s'pose," answered Joe;"most all the western Injuns do. They make it o' thedried leaves o' the shumack and the inner bark o' thered-willow, chopped very small an' mixed together.
They call this stuff kinnekinnik; but they like to mixabout a fourth o' our tobacco with it, so Pee-eye-em tellsme, an' he's a good judge. The amount that red-skinnedmortal smokes is oncommon.""What are they doin' yonder?" inquired Dick, pointingto a group of men who had been feasting for sometime past in front of a tent within sight of our trio.
"Goin' to sing, I think," replied Joe.
As he spoke six young warriors were seen to worktheir bodies about in a very remarkable way, and giveutterance to still more remarkable sounds, which graduallyincreased until the singers burst out into thatterrific yell, or war-whoop, for which American savageshave long been famous. Its effect would have been appallingto unaccustomed ears. Then they allowed theirvoices to die away in soft, plaintive tones, while theiraction corresponded thereto. Suddenly the furious stylewas revived, and the men wrought themselves into acondition little short of madness, while their yells rangwildly through the camp. This was too much for ordinarycanine nature to withstand, so all the dogs in theneighbourhood joined in the horrible chorus.
Crusoe had long since learned to treat the eccentricitiesof Indians and their curs with dignified contempt.
He paid no attention to this serenade, but lay sleepingby the fire until Dick and his companions rose to takeleave of their host and return to the camp of the fur-traders.
The remainder of that night was spent inmaking preparations for setting forth on the morrow;and when, at gray dawn, Dick and Crusoe lay downto snatch a few hours' repose, the yells and howlingin the Snake camp were going on as vigorously asever.
The sun had arisen, and his beams were just tippingthe summits of the Rocky Mountains, causing the snowypeaks to glitter like flame, and the deep ravines andgorges to look sombre and mysterious by contrast, whenDick and Joe and Henri mounted their gallant steeds,and, with Crusoe gambolling before, and the two pack-horsestrotting by their side, turned their faces eastward,and bade adieu to the Indian camp.
Crusoe was in great spirits. He was perfectly wellaware that he and his companions were on their wayhome, and testified his satisfaction by bursts of scamperingover the hills and valleys. Doubtless he thought ofDick Varley's cottage, and of Dick's mild, kind-heartedmother. Undoubtedly, too, he thought of his ownmother, Fan, and felt a glow of filial affection as he didso. Of this we feel quite certain. He would have beenunworthy the title of hero if he hadn't. Perchance hethought of Grumps, but of this we are not quite so sure.
We rather think, upon the whole, that he did.
Dick, too, let his thoughts run away in the directionof home. Sweet word! Those who have never left itcannot, by any effort of imagination, realize the full importof the word "home." Dick was a bold hunter; buthe was young, and this was his first long expedition.
Oftentimes, when sleeping under the trees and gazingdreamily up through the branches at the stars, had hethought of home, until his longing heart began to yearnto return. He repelled such tender feelings, however,when they became too strong, deeming them unmanly,and sought to turn his mind to the excitements of thechase; but latterly his efforts were in vain. He becamethoroughly home-sick, and while admitting the fact tohimself, he endeavoured to conceal it from his comrades.
He thought that he was successful in this attempt. PoorDick Varley! as yet he was sadly ignorant of humannature. Henri knew it, and Joe Blunt knew it. EvenCrusoe knew that something was wrong with his master,although he could not exactly make out what it was.
But Crusoe made memoranda in the note-book of hismemory. He jotted down the peculiar phases of hismaster's new disease with the care and minute exactnessof a physician, and, we doubt not, ultimately added theknowledge of the symptoms of home-sickness to hisalready well-filled stores of erudition.
It was not till they had set out on their homewardjourney that Dick Varley's spirits revived, and it wasnot till they reached the beautiful prairies on the easternslopes of the Rocky Mountains, and galloped over thegreensward towards the Mustang Valley, that Dickventured to tell Joe Blunt what his feelings had been.
"D'ye know, Joe," he said confidentially, reining uphis gallant steed after a sharp gallop--"d'ye know I'vebin feelin' awful low for some time past.""I know it, lad," answered Joe, with a quiet smile, inwhich there was a dash of something that implied heknew more than he chose to express.
Dick felt surprised, but he continued, "I wonder whatit could have bin. I never felt so before.""'Twas home-sickness, boy," returned Joe.
"How d'ye know that?""The same way as how I know most things--byexperience an' obsarvation. I've bin home-sick myselfonce, but it was long, long agone."Dick felt much relieved at this candid confession bysuch a bronzed veteran, and, the chords of sympathyhaving been struck, he opened up his heart at once, tothe evident delight of Henri, who, among other curiouspartialities, was extremely fond of listening to and takingpart in conversations that bordered on the metaphysical,and were hard to be understood. Most conversationsthat were not connected with eating and hunting wereof this nature to Henri.
"Hom'-sik," he cried, "veech mean bein' sik of hom'!
Ha............