If the visit of the Sioux had resulted in hostilities, Mr. Perier would have been forced to give up the trip to the Mississippi. As it was, the fact that the only hostile act committed had been against the Assiniboins, and that Waneta and his braves had departed at peace with the white men, went far to convince the Swiss that his little party would have no trouble with the Indians unless they sought it. Louis did not wholly agree with that idea, but he was young, eager for travel and adventure, and willing to take what seemed a rather remote risk. His mother was more doubtful, but if the others were going, she did not intend to stay behind. At first Elise had dreaded a new journey into strange country, but when Mrs. Brabant decided to go, she no longer felt afraid. She did not want to return to Fort Douglas, and she had grown very fond of Mrs. Brabant.

Already the bois brulés of Pembina were growing restless. The coming of spring had stirred the wild blood in them. They were eager to be up and away. Those who had not taken service with the Company to go as voyageurs to Fort York, neglected their primitive gardening to prepare for the great buffalo hunt. They mended harness, repaired old carts by binding the broken parts with rawhide, patched hide and canvas tents, cleaned guns, moulded bullets, made stout new moccasins, packed their wooden chests, and overhauled gear of all kinds. The ground around every cabin was strewn with odds and ends.

On the first day of June Neil arrived full of enthusiasm, and the little party was complete. A spot on the open prairie to the southwest of the junction of the two rivers had been chosen as a gathering place for the hunters. Early in the morning of the appointed day, the people began to leave the settlement. Most of the hunters were taking their entire families along. The clumsy, squeaking, two-wheeled carts, drawn by wiry ponies, were crowded with black-haired, dark-skinned women and children or piled high with household gear and equipment. Louis’ one horse and cart were not enough for the Brabant-Perier party, so he and Walter had built another vehicle. Neil furnished two ponies, and Louis had traded his toboggan and Gray Wolf for a fourth. Askimé was to go with him. He would not part with the husky dog.

At the women’s suggestion, the Brabant, Perier, and Lajimonière families selected a spot a little distance from the main camp. There they unhitched their ponies, and stretched their tent covers from cart to cart.

“There will be much drinking in the camp to-night,” Louis explained to Mr. Perier, “to celebrate the beginning of the hunt, and much noise and gaming, and probably fighting. Since we do not wish to take part in all that, we will camp by ourselves. This is a better place for the women and children.”

The wisdom of this plan soon became evident. Long before midnight the big camp had grown uproarious. When an unusually loud outburst of noise was followed by the sound of shots and frantic yelling, Mr. Perier raised himself on his elbow to listen. He was sleeping on the ground underneath one of the carts.

“I’m afraid we have made a mistake,” he said anxiously to Walter lying next him. “We cannot travel with that wild crew. It will not be safe for the children.”

Louis, on the other side, overheard the words, and hastened to reassure the Swiss. “You need not fear, M’sieu Perier. They will be all right after the liquor is gone. I think they will finish it to-night. They cannot get more till they return. Our people are seldom quarrelsome except when they have liquor. Once the hunt makes a start, the leaders will keep good order. The rules are very strict. They are rough and wild, my people, but they are not unkind. Ma’amselle Elise and my little sisters will be quite safe.”

The hilarity continued through most of the night, but before sunrise quiet had descended on the circle of carts and tents. Flasks and kegs were empty, and most of the roisterers were sleeping. They remained in camp all that day. By the time the caravan was in motion the following morning, all were sober and more than ordinarily quiet. Some had good reason to be morose, having gambled away their guns, horses, and carts while under the influence of liquor. Several had received knife or gunshot wounds in the quarrels that resulted.

“It is always so that the hunt begins,” said the Canadian Lajimonière, with a shake of his head. “Liquor and gambling, they are the twin curses of the bois brulé. Those two things are the cause of most of his troubles.”

It was surprising how quickly camp was broken and the long train got under way at the cries of “Marche donc!” The guide rode ahead. His household cart, following close behind, bore a flag made of a red handkerchief attached to a pole. The lowering of that flag was the signal to stop and make camp.

In single file the long line of creaking, jouncing carts stretched far across the prairie. Where a man had to drive two or more vehicles, he tied one horse to the tail of the cart ahead. Loose ponies for buffalo hunting or to replace those in the shafts, ran alongside. Most of the men and some of the women rode horseback or went afoot, while the children were now in, now out of the carts, according to their inclination. The bright colors of the bois brulés’ dress, and the red and yellow ochre with which many of the carts were painted, gave a gay appearance to the cavalcade, but the screeching and groaning of the ungreased axles was anything but a merry sound. The discordant rasping and squawking tortured Elise’s ears and set her teeth on edge.

Because they had camped separately, the Brabant-Perier party was at the very end of the train. Mr. Perier was mounted on one of the four horses, while Walter, Neil, and the two Brabant boys took turns riding another. Most of the time Louis walked beside the front cart or sat on the shafts, one of the other boys accompanying the second. Mrs. Brabant, her two daughters, Elise, and Max rode in the carts, getting down now and then to walk for a while. The rate of travel was slow, less than twelve miles being made the first day. Thereafter the day’s march averaged nearly twenty.

It was with some apprehension that Mr. Perier watched Louis and Neil wheel the two carts into the place assigned them in the circle that night. Walter, who had lived longer among the bois brulés, was less troubled. Louis had assured him that everything would be all right, and Walter did not doubt his friend’s judgment. Everything, but the mosquitoes, was all right, that night and every night that the Brabants and Periers camped with the hunt. Rough and noisy the hunters and their families were, but good natured and kindly enough. They shouted, laughed, and sang, fiddled and danced, told stories, played cards and other games by the light of their fires, but there was little quarreling and no fighting. Within two hours after sunset, all had settled down for the night, and the camp lay quiet and sleeping.

The sun rose early those June mornings, but before it appeared above the horizon, the camp was astir. In an astonishingly short time the train was in motion again. The route was to the west of the Red River in what is now North Dakota. There were swampy stretches to cross, still wet enough to make traveling difficult, then drier ground and better going. On every side lay flat, open country, broken here and there by small groves or thin lines of trees along the streams. The prairie was green with new grass, and dotted everywhere with the pink and white and yellow and blue of wild flowers growing singly or in masses. Elise and the Brabant and Lajimonière girls delighted in picking the sweet, pale pink wild roses and decorating themselves and the carts. Mrs. Brabant warned them to look out for snakes and Louis armed each with a stout stick. At the warning rattle, Marie Brabant and Reine Lajimonière would search for the snake and kill it. But little Jeanne and Elise, who had not grown used to prairie rattlesnakes, ran back to the carts in fright.

Snakes were not plentiful, however. Far more troublesome were the mosquitoes that rose in clouds after the sun went down. On still nights the buzzing, stinging insects were a continual torment. Smudges were kindled everywhere within the circle of carts, but Elise and Max could find little choice between the stinging pests and the choking smoke.

Mr. Perier and Walter marveled at the control the leaders of the hunt exercised over the wild crew. The hunters had chosen a chief and several captains, who formed a governing council, and each captain had a number of men under him to act as guards and police. When the guide lowered his flag, every cart took the place assigned it in the circle, shafts outward. The captain and men on duty were responsible for the order and good behavior, as well as the safety, of the camp.

The rules adopted by the council were much the same on all the hunts. Scouts were sent out each day to look for buffalo, but must not frighten them. No one was allowed to separate from, or lag behind the main party without permission, or to hunt buffalo independently. The most serious offences were thievery and fighting with guns or knives. Punishments ranged from cutting up a man’s bridle or saddle, if he had one, to driving the guilty person from camp. Knowing that the penalty would be swift and severe, even the boldest seldom ventured to break the laws.

For several days no buffalo but a few scattered individuals were seen. When the beasts caught scent or sound of the caravan, they were off at an awkward gallop. They seemed to move slowly, but really made good speed. It was Elise’s first sight of live buffalo, and she thought them very ugly creatures, with their great shaggy heads and clumsy movements.

Late one afternoon the line of carts wound down the bank of the Turtle River to a ford. Long before the rear of the caravan reached the stream, exciting news had been carried back from mouth to mouth.

“There are buffalo ahead,” one of the Lajimonière boys called to Neil, who was driving the first of the Brabant-Perier carts. “A great band has been across the ford, and not long ago, they say.”

A great band it must have been. The hunting party had left a plain and well-trodden trail down the bank, and roiled, muddy water at the crossing. But no cart-train running wild could have so ravaged the country. Far on either side of the ford, the willows and bushes were torn and trampled. From many of the trees the bark was rubbed off or hanging in shreds. The grass was worn away. The mud along the margin was trodden hard by thousands of hoofs. The devastation was fresh.

Would the hunters chase the buffalo that night? Walter hoped so, though the sun was setting when the last cart crossed the ford. The chief of the hunt said no, however. Any attempt to pursue buffalo in the darkness would probably result merely in frightening them away. Moreover the horses, even those that had been running loose, were weary from a twenty-mile march. Real buffalo country had been reached. If the hunters missed this particular band, there would be others.

So camp was made as usual, but the horses were picketed within the circle, instead of being hobbled and turned loose to feed. Time would be saved by having the mounts handy in the morning. There was another reason for keeping close watch of the ponies that night. Where there were buffalo there were likely to be Indians. South of the Turtle River was debatable ground between Sioux and Ojibwa, and the Sioux were notorious horse thieves.

It was plain that the buffalo were not many miles away. All that night their lowing and bellowing could be heard almost continuously.

“The country must be full of them,” Walter whispered to Neil, as they lay side by side.

“Aye, it’s a big band. There’ll be grand sport in the morning,” was the sleepy reply.

XXXI
THE CHARGING BUFFALO

Scouts went out at dawn, and were back again before the camp had finished breakfasting. Their report made the hunters hasten preparations. Already the question as to which ones of the Brabant-Perier party should take part in the hunt had been settled. Only two horses were available. Louis’ new one had gone lame, and one of Neil’s was not a good buffalo pony, being gun shy and easily frightened. Neither Mr. Perier nor Walter had ever hunted buffalo, while Louis and Neil were skilled in the sport. So it was right that the latter two should go. Walter was disappointed of course. He would have liked to take part in the hunt. But he comforted himself with the thought that there would be other opportunities.

The caravan was just south of the Turtle River, a tributary of the Red, and a number of miles west of the latter stream, in slightly rolling, though open country. A low, irregular ridge shut off the view to the south and hid the buffalo. After the hunters got away, the women, children, and few men who had remained behind, started on, with the carts. They wanted to be in readiness to collect the meat before the hot sun spoiled it, and they were eager to watch the sport. This time the carts did not move single file, but jounced over the prairie in any order their drivers saw fit.

Walter and Raoul were as anxious as anyone for a view of the hunt. They hitched up Neil’s pony and got away as quickly as possible, leaving Mr. Perier and Mrs. Brabant to follow slowly with the other cart and lame horse. Elise, Marie, and Max went with the two boys, while Jeanne remained with her mother.

The boys’ cart was among the first to top the rise. The sight revealed almost took Walter’s breath away. The prairie beyond the ridge was covered with buffalo in a dense, dark mass. They were feeding peacefully, moving slowly along towards the southeast.

“Where are the hunters?” asked Walter.

Raoul pointed to the southwest. “Behind those little hills,” he said confidently. “The wind is east. They have gone around to approach from that way, so the beasts will not get their scent. There they come!”

Figures of horsemen were appearing over the top of one of the low hills. On they came, a long, irregular line, riding easily down hill at a lope. As they reached level ground they broke into a gallop. The buffalo nearest the hunters were taking alarm. They were crowding forward, the bulls on the outskirts of the herd pawing the ground and tossing their great heads. The horsemen broke into a run. They charged recklessly across the prairie, regardless of gopher holes. Those bois brulés could certainly ride, thought Walter in admiration. He wondered whether Louis and Neil were among the foremost. At that distance he could not tell.

Suddenly the buffalo everywhere took fright. At a clumsy, galloping gait they were away. They crowded, wheeled, milled, stampeded, hoofs flying, shaggy heads tossing. In a few moments the foremost of the hunters were among them, shouting, yelling, firing, horses plunging and shying. The whole mass was in wild commotion, sweeping on towards the low ridge where the carts waited and the excited spectators looked on. With the thundering of hoofs, the bellowing of the beasts, the shouts and yells of the hunters, the continuous popping of guns, the clouds of smoke and dust lit up by the flashes of firing, the prairie had become pandemonium.

Never had Walter dreamed of such a sight. His blood was tingling. He breathed fast and excitedly. Elise stood beside him, her hands clasped tightly together, frightened yet fascinated. Marie and Raoul danced up and down, and little Max sat on the edge of the cart and shrieked at the top of his voice in his excitement.

The great band was breaking up into smaller droves and groups. In every direction they wheeled and fled. The hunters, riding recklessly, swaying in their saddles, loading and firing at full speed, pursued them.

One group of six or eight frightened beasts was close by, just at the foot of the low ridge. A horseman dashed towards them. Walter had just time to recognize that blue-bonneted red head, and then, as Neil fired, the little band broke and scattered. One big bull was pounding up the slope, straight towards the cart.

Walter was standing on one side, Raoul on the other of the nervous, excited pony, which was pawing, snorting, twisting about in the shafts, alarmed and uneasy at the sight below. It had not occurred to either boy that he would have a chance to do any shooting. Both of the guns were in the cart.

When the buffalo charged up the slope, Walter sprang back. As he seized his gun, the panic-stricken pony jumped to one side, sending Raoul sprawling, wheeled, overturned the cart, and was off. Walter saw Max hurtle through the air, and land right in the path of the oncoming buffalo. As the child struck the ground, Elise darted towards him.

With shaking fingers Walter slipped a charge of powder and ball into the muzzle of his gun and primed it. His whole body was trembling. He must not miss. A story Lajimonière had told of a fight with an infuriated buffalo flashed through his mind. “I aimed behind the ear,” the Canadian had said. Where was the ear in that shaggy mass of hair?

The bull, at the crest of the ridge, paused for an instant to paw the ground, shake its huge, ugly head, and bellow defiance at the little group in its pathway. Forcing himself to be steady, deliberate, Walter pulled the trigger. It pulled hard. The flint struck the steel. Sparks flew in every direction. There was a flash, a roar, a bellow. The buffalo plunged forward, and went down.

When Walter recovered from the shock of firing – his primitive, flintlock musket kicked like a mule – the great, dark, hairy bulk lay almost at his feet. Had he hit behind the ear? He would take no chances. The muscles of the big body were twitching. Hurriedly reloading, he fired again, the gun muzzle almost against the buffalo’s head. An instant later there came another report. Raoul had picked himself up, seized his gun, that had been thrown out of the cart, and fired at the fallen beast. He missed it in his excitement, by a wider margin than he missed Walter.

Walter took no heed of the wild shot. His only thought was of Elise and Max. He turned to find Elise stooped over her little brother, her arms around him. When she realized that the danger was over, she sank down in a heap in the grass. Max wriggled from her arms and sat up.

“Elise,” cried Walter, “what were you trying to do?”

“Drag Max out of the way,” she answered simply. “Didn’t you see? That terrible beast was coming straight towards him!”

“And straight towards you, too. Didn’t you think of that?”

“She is the bravest girl I ever saw,” exclaimed Marie Brabant. Marie, who had been on the other side of Raoul, had fled to safety, and had not returned until the danger was over.

“No, no,” Elise protested. “I was terribly frightened when I saw that huge, ugly beast coming up the hill. But when Max fell out of the cart, I thought he was going to be killed. I have looked after him ever since Mother died you know, Walter,” she added, as if in excuse for her own bravery.

“You are the bravest girl I ever knew,” Marie repeated emphatically, “even if you are afraid of snakes.”

But Elise had turned to her little brother. “You aren’t hurt, are you, Max?” she asked anxiously.

“Just my shoulder where I fell on it,” the lad replied bravely. “I think – ”

He was interrupted by Neil’s shout. Unnoticed by the others, the Scotch boy had ridden up the hill. He dismounted beside the dead buffalo.

“It was all my fault,” he said contritely. “I ought not to have driven the beasts this way. I saw you, but I was after a cow and didn’t notice that bull turning towards you. I never thought of his charging up hill. I didn’t know you were in any danger, till I heard the shot and looked up here. You’ve made a good kill, Walter. He’s a big fellow. And you certainly kept your head. I’m not sure I wouldn’t have lost mine, if I had been in your place.” This was a generous admission from anyone as proud of his courage and prowess as Neil MacKay was. At that moment, however, Neil was not in the least proud of himself. His carelessness had brought peril to his friends.