Ti-ti-pu: a Boy of Red River
Copyright© 2024 by J. Macdonald Oxley
Chapter 9: The Buffalo Hunt
Soon after the arrival of the Selkirk settlers at Pembina, the people of the place set about preparing for the great fall buffalo hunt, and they cordially invited the Scots to join them.
The latter accepted the kind invitation eagerly, and all the men who had a little money to spare purchased guns and ammunition from the store-keepers.
For days the settlement and the Scotch camp were full of bustle. Ponies had to be provided for all the hunters, provisions prepared, as they would be away probably for ten days or so, and a number of other things attended to.
Mr. Macrae, having decided to go himself, at first wanted Hector to remain behind with his mother, but the boy pleaded so earnestly to be taken, and the loving, self-sacrificing mother, though she dreaded some mishap, so warmly supported his plea, that, to his abounding joy, his father consented.
It was an odd-looking cavalcade that set forth from Pembina on a bright, bracing October morning. The Scotsmen looked very awkward as, mounted upon Indian ponies, some of which were so small that the long legs of the riders almost touched the ground, they strove to carry their guns and keep their seats with some sort of dignity.
The Pembina folk, whether white or half-breed, were all good riders, and, having taken the pick of the ponies, as was only natural, looked remarkably well, while half-a-score Indians who were to act as guides galloped hither and thither, whooping and brandishing their guns by way of showing off.
Hector was delighted with the pony that fell to him, a sturdy, piebald creature, in quite good condition and full of life, but not at all vicious. No knight of old sallying forth in full armour could have felt prouder than did the Scotch laddie, as, with Dour and Dandy barking and pretending to bite the pony’s nose, he took his place in the motley procession.
‘Eh, father, but isn’t this just grand!’ he cried, enthusiastically, as he cantered beside his father, whose stalwart frame looked bigger than ever as he rode solemnly upon a steed that, assuredly, had never carried so weighty a rider before. ‘See what a fine horse I have, and he’s that good, too! Oh, but I hope we’ll be sure to find the buffalo!’
‘Ye need na fash yersel’, laddie,’ responded Mr. Macrae, with one of his wise, kind smiles. ‘Ye’ll have plenty of riding upon your little horse, and we’re likely enough to find the buffalo, for these folk ken just where to look for them. So be patient an’ ye’ll have your desire.’
They travelled for two days due west, and then made camp on a lovely spot beside a clear flowing stream, where a clump of trees afforded them both shade and firewood. Farther west stretched the prairie where roamed the noble animal of whom they were in quest.
Soon after dawn the next morning the whole camp was astir, and after a hurried meal everybody got ready for the day’s business. The weather was all that could be wished, and spirits ran high.
‘Ye’ll keep as near to me as ye can, eh, laddie?’ said Mr. Macrae to Hector. ‘There’ll be mony ways o’ getting hurt, e’en though ye may be careful.’
‘Yes, father, I’ll try,’ answered Hector promptly, but in his heart he felt that once the chase really began his speedy pony, with only his light weight to carry, must soon run away from the scarcely larger animal that had his father’s two hundred pounds upon his back.
A veteran hunter, nick-named Buffalo Carter, took entire charge of the hunt, and under his short, sharp commands the party was divided up, and sent off in different directions.
There were six in the party to which Mr. Macrae and Hector were assigned, and their captain—so to speak—was a shrewd, good-humoured half-breed, Narcisse by name, who had killed many score of buffalo in the course of his career. He had taken a liking to Hector, and he greatly admired Dour and Dandy, who, having vented their superfluous spirits, were now trotting quietly along beside Hector’s pony, and he said to him in a sort of aside: ‘You keep close to me, eh! mon petit ami. Kill big buffalo for sure, eh!’
Hector responded with a grateful smile. ‘I will that if I can, but your fine horse will likely run away from my pony.’
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