Home
Fictions/Novels
Short Stories
Poems
Essays
Plays
Nonfictions
 
Authors
All Titles
 






In Association with Amazon.com

Home > Authors Index > Edwin Eastman > Seven and Nine years Among the Camanches and Apaches An Autobiography > This page

Seven and Nine years Among the Camanches and Apaches An Autobiography, a non-fiction book by Edwin Eastman

Chapter 20. The Buffalo Hunt

< Previous
Table of content
Next >
________________________________________________
_ CHAPTER XX. THE BUFFALO HUNT

The season was now approaching when the buffalo might be expected in great numbers on the plains to the east of us, and all the warriors were making the most extensive preparations for their grand buffalo hunt. They had commenced the ceremonies by song and dance, as related in another chapter and now, all that was necessary for their happiness, was the actual appearance of the bison. Young men left the camp daily, and scoured the plains, in order to get the first news of the herd; while others stationed themselves on high cliffs, and patiently waited the advent of the animal which was to supply them with food. A signal had been agreed upon, by which the village would be made aware of their presence as soon as the buffaloes were in sight. Meantime every Indian was busy, perfecting his arrangements for the chase. Lances were re-pointed, arrows headed, and bows strengthened. Most of the time, however, was employed in training the ponies, and the plain, in front of the village, presented a very animated appearance as the horsemen were seen dashing along at top-speed, throwing the lasso, or rushing headlong up to another warrior, who personated a buffalo, go through the motions of killing him.

These scenes fired me with a desire to see a buffalo hunt myself. I had reason to believe that the Indians trusted me sufficiently to permit of my accompanying them on the proposed expedition; but then I was totally inexperienced in the management of their weapons, on horseback, never having had occasion to use them when mounted. However, I determined to try, and going to Wakometkla, I made known my wishes. He concurred quite heartily in my request, and even went so far as to offer me his own lance and spear.

My determination to accompany the party was soon bruited throughout the village, and many were the offers of advice, ponies, and implements of the chase, that were pressed upon my acceptance. After some hesitation, I selected a pony that pleased me, and arming myself with bow and arrows, sallied forth upon the plain, to put into practice the hints that had been imparted to me in regard to hunting the bison. At first it was up-hill work; and my frantic endeavors to slide on the side of my pony and discharge an arrow from under his neck, caused my instructors no small merriment. After a severe fall--and I had many such--I would be assisted to my horse's back, and recommended to try it again, with as much coolness as if I had merely fallen from a chair.

Notwithstanding the many times I came to grief, in trying to wield bow and arrow, or lance, effectively, I kept persistently at it, and in a week's time I had become a somewhat expert horseman, and could shoot an arrow with tolerable accuracy. I now wished that buffaloes would be signaled as approaching, quite as ardently as did the warriors; but in the meantime, I persevered in my practice. One day it occurred to me that I should like to learn to throw a lasso, and procuring one, I coiled it, mounted, and went in search of some object on which to practice.

By some mutability of fortune a donkey had strayed into our midst, and had remained with the tribe for many years. No one used him, but all considered it their privilege to tease the poor brute. He bore it calmly and with that fortitude which is a distinguishing trait of his species. Deeming him a very fair substitute for a buffalo, I gave my pony a sharp cut with the whip, and dropping the rein upon his neck, prepared to throw my lasso. My imaginary buffalo seemed to suspect that all was not right, and acting on his suspicions galloped away, not giving my intentions the benefit of the doubt. It was of no avail, however, for, urging my pony to increased speed, I was soon within range, and twirling the lasso around my head a few times, I launched it, directing its course, as nearly as my poor skill would permit, towards the donkey's head. It would certainly never have touched him had he pursued the direction in which he was then running. But his evil genius prompted him to turn, and, shaping his course so as to bisect mine at right angles, he raised his head, and, giving vent to one of those musical neighs (?) for which the animal is somewhat famous, rushed on in his mad career. Poor brute! the noose hovered over him a moment, like some bird of prey about to swoop down on its quarry, and then settled over his head and shoulders.

My horse knew more about the use of this peculiar instrument than I did, for no sooner had the lasso passed over the head of the donkey than he planted his fore feet firmly on the ground, and braced his body to receive the shock. Before I was aware of anything, I felt a sharp jerk at my wrist, and the next moment I was sailing over my pony's head, and going in the direction of the donkey at a more rapid rate than was agreeable. I soon struck terra firma, but with such force that the concussion caused me to see more stars than I thought the heavens were capable of containing. To add to my embarrassment, the rope had become fastened to my wrist, and in such a manner that I could not free myself. The donkey, recovering from the effect of the shock, started off at headlong speed, dragging my unresisting body after him. How long this novel journey would have continued I have no means of knowing had I not fortunately been rescued by a passing Indian. After an examination, I found that with the exception of torn clothing and a few scratches, I had come out of this adventure safely; but I never more had any desire to run amuck with donkeys.

The Indian then explained the manner in which the lasso was thrown, and under his tuition I became somewhat of an adept in this novel art.

The following morning the signal from the look-out announced that the herd were in sight. Then there was hurrying to and fro, and mounting in hot haste. Indians were seen rushing frantically in every direction, whilst the greatest hilarity prevailed among the squaws. Horses were driven into the corrals and quickly bridled, whilst those who were to participate in the hunt were busy divesting themselves of all superfluous clothing. Some armed themselves with a bow and a few arrows, while some depended on their lances only. The party had by this time assembled in front of the lodge where Tonsaroyoo was standing giving the final instructions to the band. These were very brief, and as soon as he had finished speaking, everything being in readiness, we mounted our horses, and were off like a whirlwind.

Passing up the valley, we climbed the cliff and defiling around the narrow ledge of rock that guards this entrance to the village soon deployed upon the prairie. As we swept along over the plain on this glorious morning, my spirits rose, the blood coursed through my veins in rapid pulsations, and I felt as if I could have destroyed a herd of buffaloes single handed.

In these latitudes such is the purity of the air that one seems to be taking in at every breath the veritable elixir of life. Your spirits are buoyant, and all nature seems to be smiling and gay. As we journeyed we overtook the scouts, who were returning to apprise us of the exact location of the buffaloes. After making their report, they would wheel into line and sweep on with the main party.

We had proceeded about twenty miles, when we reached a level stretch of prairie, and directly in front of us, at a distance of perhaps two miles was the herd quietly grazing, all unsuspecting of the danger that menaced them. It was not a very large drove, and they kept quite close together. It was the season when the buffaloes wandered off from the main herd in small bands, and the prairies were dotted for miles with these black clumps, like great dark splashes on a carpet of emerald.

The plan of attack was decided upon in council, and the band disposed of in a manner that would insure the complete and speedy extermination of our game. We were about to make a "surround." The warriors were divided into two columns, and taking opposite directions, drew themselves gradually around the herd at a distance of about a mile from them. We continued to deploy in this manner until a complete circle was formed, and then, at a given signal, we closed in upon the buffaloes, keeping our impatient steeds at a moderate pace.

The herd soon got the wind of the advancing enemy, and fled in a body in the greatest confusion. To the point where the buffaloes were aiming to cross our line, the horsemen were gathering, and forming in column, brandishing their weapons and yelling in the most frightful manner, by which means they turned the surging mass. Seeing themselves baffled at this point, they would rush off in an opposite direction, when they would again be met by a formidable column and again repulsed in utter confusion.

By this time we had closed in from all directions, forming a continuous line that circled the throng like the deadly coils of the cobra. The buffaloes had become completely demoralized, and were eddying about in a crowded and confused mass, hooking and climbing upon each other. Now was the time for the onslaught. Tonsaroyoo, by whose side I was riding, placed the whistle to his lips and gave the signal.

Then followed a scene of wild confusion. The horsemen dashed upon the bewildered buffaloes with the rapidity of thought almost, using their lances and arrows with murderous effect. In the turmoil a cloud of dust was raised which in part obscured those of the band who did not immediately surround me. The excitement was intense, and soon all became one immense blur, in which hunters and buffaloes were indiscriminately mixed. I could see the Indians galloping their horses around the animals and driving the whizzing arrows or long lances to the hearts of their quarry.

My own pony had penetrated deep into the herd, and with a sagacity that a long experience alone could develop, was laying his course straight for an enormous bull that was flanking the herd. Had my taste been consulted, I should certainly have declined to try conclusions with such an ugly customer, but there was no avoiding the encounter, and, selecting an arrow, I drew my bow and waited a favorable opportunity to send it through the bison.

On sped the pony, and in a few moments I was brushing the flank of the buffalo. At a glance I saw that he had been wounded and was tearing along, blind with rage. I let fly my arrow, which pierced his neck; its effect was only to increase his fury, and, wheeling round, he rushed on me with savage desperation. Never can I forget the sight as he bore down upon us. Infuriated with the wounds already received, his shaggy mane partly concealing his bloodshot eyes, and bellowing fiercely, he poised his head for a final charge. My horse tried to escape the onslaught, but we had penetrated into the main body, and our actions were impeded by the other buffaloes.

I concluded our destruction was inevitable, but, as a last resort, I had determined to leap to the ground and trust to luck to lead me out of this dilemma.

As I was preparing to dismount, a lance lying upon the ground caught my sight, and I instantly changed my resolution. If I could secure the weapon all might yet be well. I determined to make the effort at all hazards, and throwing my arm into the sling that depended from the neck of my horse, I swung lightly from his back, and hanging by my arm and foot, made ready to grasp the lance with my disengaged arm. As we swept along I succeeded in securing it, and reseating myself, prepared to drive it deep into the side of the enraged bull. I had scarcely time to poise the instrument when the buffalo charged down on us like a whirlwind. Bracing myself as best I might, I pulled violently on the reins and threw my steed to one side, just in time to prevent his being gored to death, at the same time lunging out savagely at the animal. The shock was terrific, and I went whirling from my horse's back some twenty feet on the prairie. I was not so violently stunned but that I was quite conscious of the danger I was in of being trampled to death by the hoofs of the demoralized herd, and, gathered myself up in time to grasp the trailing lasso that was fastened to my pony, I was dragged far out on the prairie. Badly bruised, my skin lacerated and in places bleeding profusely, I felt in no condition to take an active part in the hunt; in fact, my unique experience was, I thought, sufficient to last me a lifetime.

Riding at some distance from the melee, I had an excellent opportunity to watch the progress of the hunt. The slaughter continued with unabated fury. The plain was covered with dead and dying buffaloes. Horses could be seen galloping over the prairie riderless, while their dismounted masters were flying for their lives before the infuriated animals.

Sometimes the serried ranks would open, and the blinded horsemen, so intent upon their prey, amidst the cloud of dust, were wedged and hemmed in among the crowding beasts, over whose backs they were obliged to leap for security, leaving their horses to the fate that might await them in the results of this wild and desperate war. Many were the bulls that turned upon their assailants and met them with desperate resistance, and many were the warriors who were dismounted and saved themselves by their superior running abilities. Some who were closely pursued by the bulls, would wheel suddenly around, and snatching the part of buffalo robe from their waists, throw it over the horns and eyes of the maddened animal, and darting to one side, drive an arrow or lance to its heart. Others dashed upon the prairies by the side of the affrighted beasts which had escaped from the throng, and closely escorting them for a few rods, bring down their hearts' blood in streams, and their huge carcasses upon the enameled turf.

In this way the whole herd was quickly annihilated. The war lasted perhaps thirty minutes, and resulted in the total destruction of the herd, which, with all their strength and fury, were doomed, like every beast, to fall before the destroying hands of mighty man.

I had sat trembling on my horse, and witnessed this extraordinary scene. Although I was not enabled to accurately estimate the number killed, yet I am sure several hundred buffaloes fell in this grand onslaught.

After the battle the scene was curious in the extreme. The hunters were moving about amongst the dead and dying animals, leading their horses by their halters, and claiming their slain by the private marks upon their arrows, which they were drawing from the wounds in the animals' sides. A few buffaloes had the good fortune to escape, but, after wandering off on the prairie for some distance, they would stop, stand a while, looking around as if in bewilderment, then turning, as if bent on their own destruction, return to the herd, and mingling with the dead and dying, swell the slaughtered throng with their numbers.

When all was finished, and the arrows had been claimed, a general council was held, the Indians seated in a circle on the ground. The pipe was passed around, each taking a few whiffs.

It was decided to wait until the women and extra horses had arrived from the village, a messenger having been despatched to announce our success, and ordering the squaws to repair to the scene and carry the meat back to the encampment. We had not long to wait for the arrival of the women. They came in a gang, making the air resound with their yells of rejoicing. As soon as they came up they were greeted with disdainful silence by the assembled warriors, and Tonsaroyoo having issued a few directions, they fell to, and were soon deep in the mysteries of skinning and butchering the slain buffaloes. As soon as a carcass had been cut up, it was placed in a covering of the hide, and placed upon the pony's back waiting to receive it. As soon as one was loaded, an Indian boy took him in charge and led him off to the village.

The plain presented a peculiar appearance, dotted here and there with the ladened ponies returning to camp, and reminded me of a caravan on the African deserts, such as I had seen in books, more than anything else. The warriors soon rode off, leaving the women, boys, and dogs to complete the destruction.

Our entry into the village was an ovation. Conquering heroes could not have been more graciously received. During the next week all hands were engaged in a round of feasting and dancing, interspersed with religious ceremonies, and in some instances of self-immolation. No scene of the long series in which I was both actor and spectator, gave me a better idea of the Indian character. To fight, slaughter, prey, eat and sleep, seemed to be the end and aim of their existence. To outnumber his adversary and hence consummate his destruction, was the highest possibility of prowess. To bear torture without evincing the weakness of physical suffering was the sublimity of courage; and when death finally overtook them, to go to the happy hunting grounds well supplied with the implements that would produce carnal enjoyment was the apotheosis of enjoyment! _

Read next: Chapter 21. Mrs. Eastman's Story Continued

Read previous: Chapter 19. A Strange History Continued

Table of content of Seven and Nine years Among the Camanches and Apaches An Autobiography


GO TO TOP OF SCREEN

Post your review
Your review will be placed after the table of content of this book