Then four of the Indians went slowly off towards the miners' camp at the mountain, their horses laden with the strips of meat, their instructions being to come back with a couple of waggons, which Joses believed they would be able to fill next day.

"How far do you think we are from the camp?" asked Bart.

"'Bout fifteen miles or so, no more," replied Joses. "You see the run after the bison led us down towards it, so that there isn't so far to go."

"Why, I fancied that we were miles upon miles away," cried Bart; "regularly lost in the wilderness."

"Instead of being close at home, eh, lad? Well, we shall have to camp somewhere out here to-night, so we may as well pick out a good place."

"But where are the other Indians?" asked Bart.

"Cutting up the buffler we killed," replied Joses.

"Faraway?"

"Oh, no; mile or so. We've done pretty well, my lad, for the first day, only we want such a lot to fill so many mouths."

A suitable place was selected for the camp, down in a well-sheltered hollow, where a fire was lit, and some bison-meat placed upon sticks to roast. The missing Indians seemed to be attracted by the odour, for just as it was done they all came straight up to camp ready to make a hearty meal, in which their white companions were in no wise behind hand.

"Not bad stuff," said Joses, after a long s.p.a.ce, during which he had been too busy to speak.

"I never ate anything so delicious," replied Bart, who, upon his side, was beginning to feel as if he had had enough.

"Ah, there's worse things than roast buffler hump," said Joses; "and now, my lad, if I was you I'd take as big and as long a sleep as I could, for we must be off again before daylight after the herd."

"Shall we catch up to them again, Joses?" asked Bart.

"Catch up to 'em? why, of course, they haven't gone far."

A quarter of an hour later Bart was fast asleep, dreaming that he was hunting a bull bison ten times as big as the one he had that afternoon shot, and that after hunting it for hours it suddenly turned round and began to hunt him, till he became so tired that he lay down and went off fast asleep, when, to his great disgust, when he was so weary, Joses came and began to shake him by the shoulder, saying:

"Come, Master Bart, lad, wake up. The buffer's been coming close in to camp during the night."

CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN.

MORE FOOD FOR THE CAMP.

For it was nearly day, and Bart jumped up, astonished that he could have slept so long--that is to say, nearly since sundown on the previous evening.

A good fire was burning, and buffalo steaks were sizzling and spurting ready for their repast, while the horses were all standing together beneath a little bold bluff of land left sharp and clear by the action of a stream that doubtless flowed swiftly enough in flood time, but was now merely a thread of water.

The party were settling down to their meal, for which, in spite of the previous evening's performance, Bart felt quite ready, when the horses suddenly began to snort and show a disposition to make a stampede, for there was a rushing noise as of thunder somewhere on ahead, and as the Indians rushed to their horses' heads, and he made for Black Boy, thinking that there must be a flood rolling down from the hills, he caught a glimpse of what was amiss.

For, as Bart stood up, he could see over the edge of the scarped bank beneath which they had made their fire, that the plain was literally alive with bison, which, in some mad insensate fit of dread, were in headlong flight, and their course would bring them right over the spot where the party was encamped.

The Beaver saw it, and, prompt in action, he made his plans:--Signing to several to come to his side, while the rest held the horses, he leaped upon the edge of the stream bed just as the bison were within a hundred yards, and Bart and Joses followed him. Then altogether, as the huge herd was about to sweep over them, they uttered a tremendous shout, and all fired together right in the centre of the charging herd.

Bart set his teeth, feeling sure that he would be run down and trampled to death; but the effect of the sudden and bold attack was to make the herd separate. It was but a mere trifle, for the bison were so packed together that their movements were to a great extent governed by those behind; but still they did deviate a little, those of the front rank swerving in two bodies to right and left, and that saved the little party.

Bart had a sort of confused idea of being almost crushed by s.h.a.ggy quarters, of being in the midst of a sea of tossing horns and dark hair, with lurid eyes glaring at him; then the drove was sweeping on--some leaping down into the stream bed and climbing up the opposite side, others literally tumbling down headlong, to be trampled upon by those which followed; and then the rushing noise began to die away, for the herd had swept on, and the traces they had left were the trampled ground and a couple of their number shot dead by the discharge of rifles, and lying in the river bed, while another had fallen a few hundred yards farther on in the track of the flight.

Fortunately the horses had been held so closely up to the bluff that they had escaped, though several of the bison had been forced by their companions to the edge, and had taken the leap, some ten feet, into the river bed below.

It had been a hard task, though, to hold the horses--the poor creatures shivering with dread, and fighting hard to get free. The worst part of the adventure revealed itself to Bart a few moments later when he turned to look for Joses, whom he found rubbing his head woefully beside the traces of their fire, over which the bison had gone in enormous numbers, with the result that the embers had been scattered, and every sc.r.a.p of the delicious, freshly-roasted, well-browned meat trampled into the sand.

"Never mind, Joses," cried Bart, bursting out laughing; "there's plenty more meat cut up."

"Plenty more," growled Joses; "and that all so nicely done. Oh, the wilful, wasteful beasts! As if there wasn't room enough anywhere else on the plain without their coming right over us!"

"What does the Beaver mean?" said Bart just then.

"Mean? Yes; I might have known as much. He thinks there's Injun somewhere; that they have been hunting the buffler and made 'em stampede. We shall have to be off, my lad. No breakfast this morning."

It was as Joses said. The Beaver was of opinion that enemies must be near at hand, so he sent out scouts to feel for the danger, and no fire could be lighted lest it should betray their whereabouts to a watchful foe.

A long period of crouching down in the stream bed ensued, and as Bart waited he could not help thinking that their hiding-place in the plain was, as it were, a beginning of a canyon like that by the mountain, and might, in the course of thousands of years, be cut down by the action of flowing water till it was as wide and deep.

At last first one and then another scout came in, unable to find a trace of enemies; and thus encouraged, a fire was once more made and meat cooked, while the three bison slain that morning were skinned and their better portions cut away.

The sun was streaming down with all its might as they once more went off over the plain in search of the herd; and this search was soon rewarded, the party separating, leaving Bart, and Joses together to ride after a smaller herd about a mile to their left.

As they rode nearer, to Bart's great surprise, the herd did not take flight, but huddled together, with a number of bulls facing outwards, presenting their horns to their enemies, tossing and shaking their s.h.a.ggy heads, and pawing up the ground.

"Why don't they rush off, Joses?" asked Bart.

"Got cows and calves inside there, my boy," replied the frontiersman.

"They can't go fast, so the bulls have stopped to take care of them."

"Then it would be a shame to shoot them," cried Bart. "Why, they are braver than I thought for."

"Not they," laughed Joses. "Not much pluck in a bison, my lad, that I ever see. Why, you might walk straight up to them if you liked, and they'd never charge you."

"I shouldn't like to try them," said Bart, laughing.

"Why not, my lad?"

"Why not? Do you suppose I want to be trampled down and tossed?"

"Look here, Master Bart. You'll trust me, won't you?"

"Yes, Joses."

"You know I wouldn't send you into danger, don't you?"

"Of course, Joses."

"Then look here, my lad. I'm going to give you a lesson, if you'll learn it."