the last of the plainsmen-第6章

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d　sensation　on　my　face。

〃Now；　look　at　that；　will　you？〃　cried　Jones。　〃I　don't　like　the　looks　of　that。〃

He　pointed　to　the　herd。　They　stopped　browsing；　and　were　uneasily　shifting　to　and　fro。　The　bull　lifted　his　head；　the　others　slowly　grouped　together。

〃Storm！　Sandstorm！〃　exclaimed　Jones；　pointing　desert…ward。　Dark　yellow　clouds　like　smoke　were　rolling；　sweeping；　bearing　down　upon　us。　They　expanded；　blossoming　out　like　gigantic　roses；　and　whirled　and　merged　into　one　another；　all　the　time　rolling　on　and　blotting　out　the　light。

〃We've　got　to　run。　That　storm　may　last　two　days；〃　yelled　Frank　to　me。　〃We've　had　some　bad　ones　lately。　Give　your　horse　free　rein；　and　cover　your　face。〃

A　roar；　resembling　an　approaching　storm　at　sea；　came　on　puffs　of　wind；　as　the　horses　got　into　their　stride。　Long　streaks　of　dust　whipped　up　in　different　places；　the　silver…white　grass　bent　to　the　ground；　round　bunches　of　sage　went　rolling　before　us。　The　puffs　grew　longer；　steadier；　harder。　Then　a　shrieking　blast　howled　on　our　trail；　seeming　to　swoop　down　on　us　with　a　yellow；　blinding　pall。　I　shut　my　eyes　and　covered　my　face　with　a　handkerchief。　The　sand　blew　so　thick　that　it　filled　my　gloves；　pebbles　struck　me　hard　enough　to　sting　through　my　coat。

Fortunately；　Spot　kept　to　an　easy　swinging　lope；　which　was　the　most　comfortable　motion　for　me。　But　I　began　to　get　numb；　and　could　hardly　stick　on　the　saddle。　Almost　before　I　had　dared　to　hope；　Spot　stopped。　Uncovering　my　face；　I　saw　Jim　in　the　doorway　of　the　lee　side　of　the　cabin。　The　yellow；　streaky；　whistling　clouds　of　sand　split　on　the　cabin　and　passed　on；　leaving　a　small；　dusty　space　of　light。

〃Shore　Spot　do　hate　to　be　beat；〃　yelled　Jim；　as　he　helped　me　off。　I　stumbled　into　the　cabin　and　fell　upon　a　buffalo　robe　and　lay　there　absolutely　spent。　Jones　and　Frank　came　in　a　few　minutes　apart；　each　anathematizing　the　gritty；　powdery　sand。

All　day　the　desert　storm　raged　and　roared。　The　dust　sifted　through　the　numerous　cracks　in　the　cabin　burdened　our　clothes；　spoiled　our　food　and　blinded　our　eyes。　Wind；　snow；　sleet　and　rainstorms　are　discomforting　enough　under　trying　circumstances；　but　all　combined；　they　are　nothing　to　the　choking　stinging；　blinding　sandstorm。

〃Shore　it'll　let　up　by　sundown；〃　averred　Jim。　And　sure　enough　the　roar　died　away　about　five　o'clock；　the　wind　abated　and　the　sand　settled。

Just　before　supper；　a　knock　sounded　heavily　o　the　cabin　door。　Jim　opened　it　to　admit　one　of　Emmett's　sons　and　a　very　tall　man　whom　none　of　us　knew。　He　was　a　sand…man。　All　that　was　not　sand　seemed　a　space　or　two　of　corduroy；　a　big　bone…handled　knife；　a　prominent　square　jaw　and　bronze　cheek　and　flashing　eyes。

〃Get　downget　down；　an'　come　in；　stranger；　said　Frank　cordially。

〃How　do　you　do；　sir；〃　said　Jones。

〃Colonel　Jones；　I've　been　on　your　trail　for　twelve　days；〃　announced　the　stranger；　with　a　grim　smile。　The　sand　streamed　off　his　coat　in　little　white　streak。　Jones　appeared　to　be　casting　about　in　his　mind。

〃I'm　Grant　Wallace；〃　continued　the　newcomer。　〃I　missed　you　at　the　El　Tovar；　at　Williams　and　at　Flagstaff；　where　I　was　one　day　behind。　Was　half　a　day　late　at　the　Little　Colorado；　saw　your　train　cross　Moncaupie　Wash；　and　missed　you　because　of　the　sandstorm　there。　Saw　you　from　the　other　side　of　the　Big　Colorado　as　you　rode　out　from　Emmett's　along　the　red　wall。　And　here　I　am。　We've　never　met　till　now；　which　obviously　isn't　my　fault。〃

The　Colonel　and　I　fell　upon　Wallace's　neck。　Frank　manifested　his　usual　alert　excitation；　and　said：　〃Well；　I　guess　he　won't　hang　fire　on　a　long　cougar　chase。〃　And　Jimslow；　careful　Jim；　dropped　a　plate　with　the　exclamation：　〃Shore　it　do　beat　hell！〃　The　hounds　sniffed　round　Wallace；　and　welcomed　him　with　vigorous　tails。

Supper　that　night；　even　if　we　did　grind　sand　with　our　teeth；　was　a　joyous　occasion。　The　biscuits　were　flaky　and　light；　the　bacon　fragrant　and　crisp。　I　produced　a　jar　of　blackberry　jam；　which　by　subtle　cunning　I　had　been　able　to　secrete　from　the　Mormons　on　that　dry　desert　ride；　and　it　was　greeted　with　acclamations　of　pleasure。　Wallace；　divested　of　his　sand　guise；　beamed　with　the　gratification　of　a　hungry　man　once　more　in　the　presence　of　friends　and　food。　He　made　large　cavities　in　Jim's　great　pot　of　potato　stew；　and　caused　biscuits　to　vanish　in　a　way　that　would　not　have　shamed　a　Hindoo　magician。　The　Grand　Canyon　he　dug　in　my　jar　of　jam；　however；　could　not　have　been　accomplished　by　legerdemain。

Talk　became　animated　on　dogs；　cougars；　horses　and　buffalo。　Jones　told　of　our　experience　out　on　the　range；　and　concluded　with　some　salient　remarks。

〃A　tame　wild　animal　is　the　most　dangerous　of　beasts。　My　old　friend；　Dick　Rock；　a　great　hunter　and　guide　out　of　Idaho；　laughed　at　my　advice；　and　got　killed　by　one　of　his　three…year…old　bulls。　I　told　him　they　knew　him　just　well　enough　to　kill　him；　and　they　did。　My　friend；　A。　H。　Cole；　of　Oxford；　Nebraska；　tried　to　rope　a　Weetah　that　was　too　tame　to　be　safe；　and　the　bull　killed　him。　Same　with　General　Bull；　a　member　of　the　Kansas　Legislature；　and　two　cowboys　who　went　into　a　corral　to　tie　up　a　tame　elk　at　the　wrong　time。　I　pleaded　with　them　not　to　undertake　it。　They　had　not　studied　animals　as　I　had。　That　tame　elk　killed　all　of　them。　He　had　to　be　shot　in　order　to　get　General　Bull　off　his　great　antlers。　You　see；　a　wild　animal　must　learn　to　respect　a　man。　The　way　I　used　to　teach　the　Yellowstone　Park　bears　to　be　respectful　and　safe　neighbors　was　to　rope　them　around　the　front　paw；　swing　them　up　on　a　tree　clear　of　the　ground；　and　whip　them　with　a　long　pole。　It　was　a　dangerous　business；　and　looks　cruel；　but　it　is　the　only　way　I　could　find　to　make　the　bears　good。　You　see；　they　eat　scraps　around　the　hotels　and　get　so　tame　they　will　steal　everything　but　red…hot　stoves；　and　will　cuff　the　life　out　of　those　who　try　to　shoo　them　off。　But　after　a　bear　mother　has　had　a　licking；　she　not　only　becomes　a　good　bear　for　the　rest　of　her　life；　but　she　tells　all　her　cubs　about　it　with　a　good　smack　of　her　paw；　for　emphasis；　and　teaches　them　to　respect　peaceable　citizens　generation　after　generation。

〃One　of　the　hardest　jobs　I　ever　tackled　was　that　of　supplying　the　buffalo　for　Bronx　Park。　I　rounded　up　a　magnificent　'king'　buffalo　bull；　belligerent　enough　to　fight　a　battleship。　When　I　rode　after　him　the　cowmen　said　I　was　as　good　as　killed。　I　made　a　lance　by　driving　a　nail　into　the　end　of　a　short　pole　and　sharpening　it。　After　he　had　chased　me；　I　wheeled　my　broncho；　and　hurled　the　lance　into　his　back；　ripping　a　wound　as　long　as　my　hand。　That　put　the　fear　of　Providence　into　him　and　took　the　fight　all　out　of　him。　I　drove　him　uphill　and　down；　and　across　canyons　at　a　dead　run　for　eight　miles　single　handed；　and　loaded　him　on　a　freight　car；　but　he　came　near　getting　me　once　or　twice；　and　only　quick　broncho　work　and　lance　play　saved　me。

〃In　the　Yellowstone　Park　all　our　buffaloes　have　become　docile；　excepting　the　huge　bull　which　led　them。　The　Indians　call　the　buffalo　leader　the　'Weetah；'　the　master　of　the　herd。　It　was　sure　death　to　go　near　this　one。　So　I　shipped　in　another　Weetah；　hoping　that　he　might　whip　some　of　the　fight　out　of　old　Manitou；　the　Mighty。　They　came　together　head　on；　like　a　railway　collision；　and　ripped　up　over　a　square　mile　of　landscape；　fighting　till　night　came　on；　and　then　on　into　the　night。

〃I　jumped　into　the　field　with　them；　chasing　them　with　my　biograph；　getting　a　series　of　moving　pictures　of　that　bullfight　which　was　sure　the　real　thing。　It　was　a　ticklish　thing　to　do；　though　knowing　that　neither　bull　dared　take　his　eyes　off　his　adversary　for　a　second；　I　felt　reasonably　safe。　The　old　Weetah　beat　the　new　champion　out　that　night；　but　the　next　morning　they　were　at　it　again；　and　the　new　buffalo　finally　whipped　the　old　one　into　submission。　Since　then　his　spirit　has　remained　broken；　and　even　a　child　can　approach　him　safelybut　the　new　Weetah　is　in　turn　a　holy　terror。

〃To　handle　buffalo；　elk　and　bear；　you　must　get　into　sympathy　with　their　methods　of　reasoning。　No　tenderfoot　stands　any　show；　even　with　the　tame　animals　of　the　Yellowstone。〃

The　old　buffalo　hunter's　lips　were　no　longer　locked。　One　after　another　he　told　reminiscences　of　his　eventful　life；　in　a　simple　manner；　yet　so　vivid　and　gripping　were　the　unvarnished　details　that　I　was　spellbound。

〃Considering　what　appears　the　impossibility　of　capturing　a　full…grown　buffalo；　how　did　you　earn　the　name　of　preserver　of　the　American　bison？〃　inquired　Wallace。

〃It　took　years　to　learn　how；　and　ten　more　to　capture　the　fifty…eight　that　I　was　able　to　keep。　I　tried　every　plan　under　the　sun。　I　roped　hundreds；　of　all　sizes　and　ages。　They　would　not　live　in　captivity。　If　they　could　not　find　an　embankment　over　which　to　break　their　necks；　they　would　crush　their　skulls　on　stones。　Failing　any　means　like　that；　they　would　lie　down；　will　themselves　to　die；　and　die。　Think　of　a　savage　wild　nature　that　could　will　its　heart　to　cease　beating！　But　it's　true。　Finally　I　found　I　could　keep　only　calves　under　three　months　of　age。　But　to　capture　them　so　young　entailed　time　and　patience。　For　the　buffalo　fight　for　their　young；　and　when　I　say　fight；　I　mean　till　they　drop。　I　almost　always　had　to　go　alone；　because　I　could　neither　coax　nor　hire　any　one　to　undertake　it　with　me。　Sometimes　I　would　be　weeks　getting　one　calf。　One　day　I　captured　eighteight　little　buffalo　calves！　Never　will　I　forget　that　day　as　long　as　I　live！〃

〃Tell　us　about　it；〃　I　suggested；　in　a　matter　of　fact；　round…the…campfire　voice。　Had　the　silent　plainsman　ever　told　a　complete　and　full　story　of　his　adventures？　I　doubted　it。　He　was　not　the　man　to　eulogize　himself。

A　short　silence　ensued。　The　cabin　was　snug　and　warm；　the　ruddy　embers　glowed；　one　of　Jim's　pots　steamed　musically　and　fragrantly。　The　hounds　lay　curled　in　the　cozy　chimney　corner。

Jones　began　to　talk　again；　simply　and　unaffectedly；　of　his　famous　exploit；　and　as　he　went　on　so　modestly；　passing　lightly　over　features　we　recognized　as　wonderful；　I　allowed　the　fire　of　my　imagination　to　fuse　for　myself　all　the　toil；　patience；　endurance；　skill；　herculean　strength　and　marvelous　courage　and　unfathomable　passion　which　he　slighted　in　his　narrative。



CHAPTER　3。　THE　LAST　HERD

Over　gray　No…Man's…Land　stole　down　the　shadows　of　night。　The　undulating　prairie　shaded　dark　to　the　western　horizon；　rimmed　with　a　fading　streak　of　light。　Tall　figures；　silhouetted　sharply　against　the　last　golden　glow　of　sunset；　marked　the　rounded　crest　of　a　grassy　knoll。

〃Wild　hunter！〃　cried　a　voice　in　sullen　rage；　〃buffalo　or　no；　we　halt　here。　Did　Adams　and　I　hire　to　cross　the　Staked　Plains？　Two　weeks　in　No…Man's…Land；　and　now　we're　facing　the　sand！　We've　one　keg　of　water；　yet　you　want　to　keep　on。　Why；　man；　you're　crazy！　You　didn't　tell　us　you　wanted　buffalo　alive。　And　here　you've　got　us　looking　death　in　the　eye！〃

In　the　grim　silence　that　ensued　the　two　men　unhitched　the　team　from　the　long；　light　wagon；　while　the　buffalo　hunter　staked　out　his　wiry；　lithe…limbed　racehorses。　Soon　a　fluttering　blaze　threw　a　circle　of　light；　which　shone　on　the　agitated　face　of　Rude　and　Adams；　and　the　cold；　iron…set　visage　of　their　brawny　leader。

〃It's　this　way；〃　began　Jones；　in　slow；　cool　voice；　〃I　engaged　you　fellows；　and　you　promised　to　stick　by　me。　We've　had　no　luck。　But　I've　finally　found　signold　sign；　I'll　admit　the　buffalo　I'm　l