Chapter 27 - The Hunt of the Wild Horse by Mayne Reid
A “Weed”- Prairie on Fire
My recovery was rapid. My wounds, though deep, were not dangerous; they were only flesh-wounds, and closed rapidly under the cauterising influence of the lechuguilla. Rude as my doctors were, in the matter of such a malady, I could not have fallen into better hands. Both, during their lives of accident and exposure, had ample practice in the healing art; and I would have trusted either, in the curing of a rattle-snake’s bite, or the tear of a grizzly bear’s claw, in preference to the most accomplished surgeon. Old Rube, in particular, thoroughly understood the simple pharmacopoeia of the prairies; and his application to my wounds of the sap of the pita plant, obtained among the rocks of the ravine, bespoke his skill. This plant, a bromelia, is of the same genus as the Agave Americana, and by travellers often confounded with the latter, though quite a distinct plant from the maguey of cultivation. It grows in most parts of Mexico and South America, extending as far north as the latitude of 30 degrees, and even farther. There is no spot too arid or barren to give support to it. It is a true desert plant; and even on the naked rock, its curved and thorny blades may be seen radiating on all sides from the tall flower-stalk, that shoots upward like a signal-staff, to the height of twenty feet. As already observed, its uses are manifold: the fibre of its leaves can be manufactured into thread, cordage, and cloth; fences are constructed of the growing plant, and thatch of the blades when cut; its sap, distilled, furnishes the fiery but not unwholesome mezcal; and the large egg-shaped core or stem is eaten for food. Tribes of Indians—Lipans, Comanches, and Apachés—use it extensively as an article of diet. One branch of the great Apaché nation are distinguished—“Mezcaleros” (eaters of the mezcal-plant). They bake it in ground-ovens of heated stones, along with the flesh of the wild-horse. It is firm when cooked, with a translucent appearance like candied fruits. I have eaten it; it is palatable—I might say delicious. The mastication of it is accompanied by a prinkling sensation upon the tongue, singular to one unaccustomed to it. It is a gift of nature to the desert regions—where it grows in greatest luxuriance, and where it serves the same purpose in the economy of the savage natives as the ixias, mesembryanthemums, and zarnias (the Caffre bread), upon the arid karoos of Southern Africa.
One of the most esteemed qualities of this bromelia is the cauterising property of its juice—well known to the natives of the Mexican table-land, and to the Peruvians, where several species are found of like virtues. It will cause ordinary wounds to cicatrise in a few hours, and even “ugly gashes” will yield to it in time.
My companions had full knowledge of its effects; and, having extracted the sap from its large succulent leaves, and boiled it to the consistency of honey, they applied it to my wounds. This operation they from time to time repeated, and the scratches were healed in a period marvellously short. My strength, too, was soon restored. Garey with his gun catered for the cuisine, and the ruffed grouse, the prairie partridge, and roasted ribs of fresh venison, were dainties even to an invalid.
In three days I was strong enough to mount; and bidding adieu to our camping-ground, we all three set forth, taking with us our beautiful captive. He was still as wild as a deer; but we had adopted precautions to prevent him from getting away from us. The trappers led him between them, secured to the saddles of both by a lazo.
We did not return in the direction of our old trail; my companions knew a shorter route—at least one upon which we should sooner reach water—and that is the most important consideration on a prairie-journey. We headed in a more westerly direction; by which, keeping in a straight line, we expected to strike the Rio Grande some distance above the rancheria.
The sky was leaden-grey—the sun not being visible—and with no guide in the heavens, we knew that we might easily diverge from a direct course. To provide against this, my companions had recourse to a compass of their own invention.
On taking our departure from camp, a sapling was stuck into the ground, and upon the top of this was adjusted a piece of bear’s-skin, which, with the long hair upon it, could be distinguished at the distance of a mile or more. The direction having been determined upon, another wand, similarly garnished with a tuft of the bear’s-skin, was set up several hundred yards distant from the first.
Turning our backs upon these signal-posts, we rode off with perfect confidence, glancing back at intervals to make sure we were keeping the line. So long as they remained in sight, and aligned with each other, we could not otherwise than travel in a straight path. It was an ingenious contrivance, but it was not the first time I had been witness to the ingenuity of my trapper-friends, and therefore I was not astonished.
When the black tufts were well-nigh hidden from view, a similar pair—the materials for which had been brought along—were erected; and these insured our direction for another stretch of a mile; then fresh saplings were planted; and so on, till we had passed over six miles of the plain.
We now came in sight of timber right ahead of us, and apparently about five miles distant. Towards this we directed our course.
We reached the timber about noon, and found it to consist of black-jack and post-oak groves, with mezquite and wild china-trees interspersed, and here and there some taller trees of the honey-locust (Gleditschia triacanthos). It was not a close forest, but a succession of groves, with openings between—avenues and grassy glades.
There were many pleasant spots, and, faint with the ride, I would fain have chosen one of them for a resting-place; but there was no water, and without water we could not halt. A short distance farther, and we should reach a stream—a small arroyo, an affluent of the Rio Grande. So promised my companions, and we rode onward.
After passing a mile or so through the timber-openings, we came out on the edge of a prairie of considerable extent. It was full three miles in diameter, and differed altogether from the plain we had left behind us. It was of the kind known in hunter phraseology as a “weed-prairie”—that is, instead of having a grassy turf, its surface was covered in a thick growth of flowering-plants, as helianthus, malvas, altheas, hibiscus, and other tall annuals standing side by side, and frequently laced together by wild-pea vines and various species of convolvulus. Such a flower-prairie was the one now before us, but not a flower was in sight; they had all bloomed, faded, and fallen—perhaps unseen by human eye—and the withered stalks, burned by a hot sun, looked brown and forbidding. They tracked and broke at the slightest touch, their seed-pods shelling their contents like rain upon the loose earth.
Instead of striking across this prairie, we skirted around its edge; and at no great distance arrived on the banks of the arroyo.
We had made but a short march; but my companions, fearful that a longer ride might bring on fever, proposed to encamp there for the night, and finish our journey on the following day. Though I felt strong enough to have gone farther, I made no objection to the proposal; and our horses were at once unsaddled and picketed near the banks of the arroyo.
The stream ran through a little bottom-valley covered with a sward of grass, and upon this we staked our steeds; but a better place offered for our camp upon the higher ground; and we chose a spot under the shade of a large locust-tree, upon the edge of the great wilderness of weeds. To this place we carried our saddles, bridles, and blankets, and having collected a quantity of dead branches, kindled our camp-fire.
We had already quenched our thirst at the stream, but, although we were all three hungry enough, the dried flesh of the grizzly bear proved but a poor repast. The rivulet looked promising for fish. Garey had both hooks and line in his “possible sack,” and I proposed the angle.
The young trapper soon baited his hooks; and he and I, repairing to the stream, cast our lines, sat down, and waited for a nibble.
Fishing was not to Rube’s taste. For a few minutes he stood watching us, but evidently with little interest, either in the sport, or what it might produce. Rube was not a fish-eater.
“Durn yur fish!” exclaimed he at length: “I’d ruther hev a hunk o’ deer-meat than all the fish in Texas. I’ll jest see ef I kin scare up somethin; the place looks likely for deer—it do.”
So saying, the old trapper shouldered his long rifle, and stalking off up the bank, was soon out of sight.
Garey and I continued bobbing with but indifferent success.
We had succeeded in drawing out a couple of cat-fish, not the most palatable of the finny tribe, when the crack of Rube’s rifle sounded in our ears. It seemed to come from the weed-prairie, and we both ran up on the high bank to ascertain what success had attended the shot.
Sure enough, Rube was out in the prairie, nearly half a mile distant from the camp. His head and shoulders were just visible above the tall stalks of the helianthus; and we could see, by his stooping at intervals, that he was bending over some game he had killed, skinning or cutting it up. The game we could not see, on account of the interposed culms of the weeds.
“A deer, I reck’n,” remarked Garey. “Buffler don’t often o’ late years stray so far to the southert, though I’ve killed some on the Grande, higher up.”
Without other remark passing between us, we descended to the arroyo, and recommenced our fishing. We took it for granted that Rube did not require any aid, or he would have signalled to us. He would soon return with his game to the camp.
We had just discovered that silver-fish (a species of hyodori) were plentiful in the stream, and this kept our attention fixed. We were desirous of taking some of them for our dinner, knowing them to be excellent eating, and far superior to the despised “cat.”
Having changed our bait for some small pieces of gold-lace, which my uniform furnished, we succeeded in pulling several of these beautiful creatures out of the water; and were congratulating one another upon the delicious broil we should have, when our conversation was suddenly interrupted by a crackling noise, that caused both of us to turn our faces towards the prairie.
The sight that met our eyes prompted us to spring simultaneously to our feet. Our horses already reared upon their lazoes—neighing with affright—and the wild screams of Rube’s mustang-mare were loud and continuous. There was no mystery about the cause; that was obvious at a glance. The wind had blown some sparks among the dry flower-stalks. The weed-prairie was on fire!
Though startled at the first sight of the conflagration, for ourselves we had nothing to fear. The bottom on which we stood was a sward of short buffalo-grass; it was not likely to catch fire, and even if it did, we could easily escape from it. There is not much danger in a burning prairie where the grass is light and short; one can dash through the line of flame, with no greater injury than the singeing of his hair, or a little suffocation from the smoke; but upon a plain covered with rank and thick vegetation, the case is very different. We therefore felt no apprehension for ourselves, but we did for our companion; his situation filled us with alarm.
Was he still where we had last seen him? This was the first question we asked one another. If so, then his peril was great indeed; his escape would be almost hopeless!
We had observed him a full half-mile out among the weeds, and on foot too. To have attempted a retreat towards the opposite side of the prairie, would have been folly: it was three miles off. Even on horseback, the flames would have overtaken him! Mounted, or on foot, he could not have got out of the way through those tall stalks—laced as they were by pea-vines and other trailing plants—whose tough tangle would have hindered the progress even of the strongest horse!
To have returned to the near side would be his only chance; but that would be in the very face of the fire, and, unless he had started long before the flames broke out, it was evident that his retreat in that direction would be cut off. As already stated, the weeds were as dry as tinder; and the flames, impelled by gusts of wind, at intervals shot out their red tongues, licking up the withered stalks, coiling like serpents around them, and consuming them almost instantaneously.
Filled with forebodings, my companion and I ran in the direction of the prairie.
When first noticed by us, the fire had extended but a few yards on each side of the locust-tree we had chosen for our camp. We were not opposite this point at the moment, having gone a little way down the arroyo; we ran, therefore, not towards the camp, but for the nearest point of high ground, in order to discover the situation of our friend.
On reaching the high ground, about two hundred yards from the locust, we saw to our astonishment that the fire had already spread, and was now burning forward to the spot where we had climbed up!
We had only a moment to glance outward, when the conflagration, hissing and crackling as it passed, rolled in front of us, and with its wall of flame shut off our view of the prairie.
But that glance had shown us all, and filled our hearts with sorrow and dismay; it revealed the situation of the trapper—no longer a situation of peril, but, as we supposed, of certain death!
He was still in the place where we had last seen him; he had evidently made no attempt to escape from it. Perhaps the knowledge that such an attempt must have failed, and hindered him from making it. The reflection that he might as well die where he stood, as be licked up by the flames in the act of fleeing from them, had bound him to the spot, wavering and undecided!
Oh! it was a dread sight to see that old man, hardened sinner that he was about to be snatched into eternity!
I remember his wild look, as the red flame, roiling between us, shut him from our sight! We saw him but for a single instant: his head and shoulders were alone visible above the tall weeds. He made no sign either with voice or arm; but I fancied that even at that distance I could read his glance of despair!
Was there no hope? Could no exertion be made to rescue him? Could he do nothing for himself? Was there no chance of his being able to clear a circle round him, and burn off a space before the line of fire could come up? Such a ruse has often availed, but no—never in such a ground as that! The weeds were too thick and tall—it could not be done—Garey said it could not be done.
There was no hope, then. The old trapper was lost!