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<h3>Chapter Nineteen.</h3> <h4>Dismount!—Quick!</h4> “Isn’t it grand!” cried Chris, as he tightened the girths of his saddle during the final preparations for the start, every one being well armed, and in face of the fact that they meant to be back at the camp the same evening, burdened with nothing but a wallet containing a little food and a bottle of water. “Isn’t what grand?” replied Ned. “Why, riding off into a country where nobody has been before, and not knowing what wonderful discoveries we may make.” “Oh yes, I suppose so; but I wish old Griggs had spoken out as he has now before we started.” “What about?” “What about? Why, our having to go on and on till all the stores are finished, and then for us to get nothing but frizzled meat to eat and water to drink. That’s a nice lookout, upon my word! Here, see if you can get my girth tightened to this hole. This brute has been eating till he’s as round as a tub.” “So has mine. I haven’t got the girth as tight as it was last time by three holes.” “Oh! Then you needn’t bother. I’m one hole better than you.” “All right, then. We shall have to tighten up two or three times to-day.” “Ready, boys?” cried the doctor. “That’s right. Now sling your guns. Are you loaded?” “Yes, father—bullet in one barrel, shot-cartridge in the other.” “Now then, mount. You follow us, and Griggs will bring up the rear.” “That’s right,” said Chris in a whisper. “We can make him talk to us and tell us about how he got on when he was travelling before.” The start was made, and as soon as the marshy part was cleared there was no need to ride in single file. The doctor allowed his two friends to come up abreast, and Griggs urged his pony forward to get between the boys. “Here we are, then,” he said cheerily. “Now we can have a palaver.” “About Indians,” said Ned eagerly. “Indians? Not a bit of it. We don’t want any Indians. I say, nice thing to find when we get back that they had raided the camp and cleared off everything, mules and all.” “Oh, I say, Griggs,” cried the boys together, “don’t! It would be horrible. Why, part of us ought to stop and guard the camp.” “Either of you like the job?” said the American. Chris and Ned leaned so as to gaze across Griggs’ pony in each other’s eyes. “Bah! They won’t find it, even if there are any in this neighbourhood,” cried the American. “Nice country, ain’t it? Rather better than the desert.” “But isn’t it a pity that we are not going right up the mountain to-day?” “Like to go all the way?” said Griggs. “Yes, I should,” cried Chris eagerly. “I want to get the glass and look round. I think I could make out the mountains on the old map if I saw them.” “Very nice if you could,” said Griggs dryly. “But it’s early morning yet. You wait till afternoon, and then see if you wish the same. I think you’ll fancy we’ve had enough of it for one day, and want to get back to camp for supper.” “Oh, I don’t know,” said Chris merrily. “I’m not always thinking of eating like Ned is.” “Eh? Oh, I say! I like that! Why, I never do.” “Didn’t you grumble just now about the time when we should have nothing but meat and water? Here—I say—Griggs, what’s that—I mean those? There’s more than one.” “Yes; keep quiet. More than twenty, my lads.” “Not Indians, are they?” whispered Chris with bated breath. “Where?—where?” panted Ned. “Over yonder—half-a-mile away. You can just see their black heads above the grass. They’re watching us.” “What, in that open grassy piece with those trees? Yes, I see now. I’ll canter forward and tell them.” “No, no, sit still and go steadily on. I don’t want ’em scared. It’s a sight worth seeing. They’re getting scarce now; nearly all have been shot up in the north.” “Yes, I know they’re getting scarce up there,” said Chris excitedly, while Ned’s eyes began to open wider and wider. “But we ought to warn my father.” “Nay, I dare say he sees them by now.” “Shout to him in case he doesn’t,” said Chris excitedly. “No, no,” replied Griggs, who was shading his eyes to keep off the sun. “They’d hear us if I shouted, and be off at once.” “But I’m afraid they’ll begin shooting.” “Who’ll begin shooting?” “Those Indians.” Griggs turned in his saddle to look wonderingly at the speaker, and then his features began to relax, but grew hard again at once, and he said quietly— “Oh, I see—shoot at us. Why, they’re doing that now, and making bulls’-eyes.” “What do you mean?” cried Chris sharply. “What have I said? Here, Ned, he’s laughing at us.” “That I wasn’t,” cried Griggs. “I only nearly smiled. Why, do you mean to tell me that you don’t know what those are?” “Indians, aren’t they? Blackheads or blackfeet—I don’t know.” “That’s very evident,” said Griggs grimly. “Why, they’re buffaloes—bisons, staring at us with their heads just above the grass.” “Oh–h–h!” cried Chris. “So they are.” “Then they mean beef,” cried Ned excitedly. “There, what did I say?” said Chris, laughing. “He’s thinking about roast beef for dinner.” “Then he won’t get any to-day,” cried Griggs. “There they go; they’ve taken alarm.” “Oh!” cried Ned, as the black objects suddenly disappeared. “We ought to have shot one.” “They’re all right,” said Griggs coolly. “We know that there are buffaloes in this part of the country, and we can stalk one when we like. We don’t want meat to-day. I say boys, we’ve only seen them, but we know now there’s something else.” “What?” cried Ned. “Wolves.” “How do you know?” “Always are. They follow the bison-droves.” “But a great bull bison could easily kill a wolf.” “But a calf couldn’t,” said Griggs dryly. “They hang about after the droves so as to pull down the very young calves, and kill the mothers too, sometimes. Well, this is a good beginning, and I only hope we may find beef like this in our larder wherever we go, till we discover the old city.” “They haven’t seen them,” said Chris. “Shout and tell them, then, now.” Chris gave a hail, and made the announcement. “Where?” shouted Wilton excitedly. “Out of sight now, sir,” replied Griggs. “The grass is very high down in that hollow, but if you look towards those trees you may see what I can now, the tall grass waving as if something was plunging through it.” “I see them,” said Bourne directly after. “And I,” cried Wilton. “Let’s ride hard and cut them off.” But a word from the doctor checked him. “Why not?” he said. “We shall want the food.” “Yes, sometime,” said the doctor. “The buffaloes will not go far from such abundant pasture, with water close at hand. We can pick up a few birds as we come back, I dare say, enough for this evening and to-morrow. I want to get on as far as we can to-day and see for a new camping-place, as we agreed.” “That’s right, sir,” said Griggs. “If we stop to get a shot or two at those fellows they may lead us another way, and what with the shooting, skinning, and cutting up, we shall make such a hole in the morning that we must put off our exploring till to-morrow.” “Oh, very well,” said Wilton, rather ungraciously; “but when we do want our joints, mark my words, we shall not be able to get a shot.” Griggs laughed and shook his head. “Don’t agree with you, Mr Wilton,” he said. “There goes something else.” “Eh? Where?” cried Wilton. “Through the tall grass yonder. I fancy it’s deer of some kind; something small, but I can’t see what it is.” “Whatever it may be,” said the doctor, “it’s running through the grass in the direction we are going. Look at the grass yonder, it’s waving as something passes through.” But whatever it was they could not get a glimpse of it, though time after time, when they felt that the game had either been passed or had gone off to right or left, they saw the grass in motion again. Then it stopped altogether, and the grass began to grow shorter before them, the longer beds being down to their right where the land sloped down, and they here and there caught the glint of water. “Why, we must be following up the bed of an underground river,” said Bourne, “and this keeps breaking out from time to time, forming quite a chain of little lakes. Yes, there, look; those must be ducks.” “Ducks they are,” cried Griggs, as a little flock rose cackling from somewhere away to their right and skimmed along over the top of some waving reed-beds, but far out of shot. “Another proof that we shall not starve,” said the doctor, as they rode slowly on, with the grass in places reaching to their saddle-bows. “Let’s strike away to the left here,” he continued. “I fancy the ground is drier. It is certainly wetter down to the right there, and the grass longer.” He was quite right, for by bearing off a little they found at the end of about half-a-mile that their progress had grown more and more easy, the grass now only reaching to their stirrup-irons, while away further to their left it was shorter still, looking quite lawn-like in the distance. “We’re a good deal higher than we were at the camp, aren’t we?” asked Bourne. “Certainly, and far-off as we are we certainly seem to be approaching the mountain by a gradual slope.” “And that chain of pools and swamps is something of a river or stream that comes down from one of the valleys yonder. Hallo! look out!” Every one present had already been put on the qui vive by a quick rustling in front, followed by a loud whirring sound, as some half-a-dozen birds, which they had evidently been driving before them through the long grass in which they had kept out of sight, had now found themselves too much exposed in the shorter herbage and taken flight. “Big partridges—monsters!” cried Chris excitedly. “Yes,” said the doctor dryly; “the most monstrous partridges I ever saw, Chris. Why, they’re turkeys, boy. They’re making for those trees yonder across the pools, eh, Griggs?” “That’s right, sir. They’d be worth stalking too, but I don’t think we could follow them through that swamp. I dare say, though, that we could get a shot at them some other day. Might perhaps as we come back.” “We’ll be ready for them then,” said the doctor quietly. “Now then, the ground’s firm, and the grass getting shorter; let’s try a canter.” He pressed his pony’s sides and led off, the rest following in single file now, with the ground slowly rising, the grass getting shorter and shorter, till at the end of about half-an-hour the doctor reached the bottom of a mound, drew rein, and let his mount walk to the summit, where he halted for his companions to join him and drink in the soft cool air as yet unheated by the ardent sun. The next few minutes were spent in sweeping the country round, and in a very short time they were pretty well acquainted with their position. For right away forward and to their left the grass grew shorter and shorter for a couple of miles, till it looked more than ever like some lawn whose soft green grew greyer and greyer till it was of a dull shimmering white. “A great lake,” cried Chris. “Try again, my boy,” said his father. “’Tisn’t salt desert, is it?” said the boy. “Breathe in the air that is coming from it, my lad.” “Hot and dry,” cried Chris excitedly. “That’s why I was getting so warm. I thought it was from riding so fast.” “We’re skirting the edge of the desert,” said the doctor, using his glass. “Yes, as far as I can see it is all tableland that way; the grass soon ends, and all is dusty sand with the air quivering over it as it sweeps away towards the mountain chain, while this way to the right the grass and trees seem to run up green and beautiful into the hills, which widen out into a valley.” “Can you see water, sir?” “Yes,” said the doctor, scanning the land to his right and away forward; “water in two places. Our course is plain enough—to keep along here at the edge of the great plain where the grass is short and the ground firm. We are on a dividing line between the bad land and the rich park-like patches and the pools and swamp. This ought to take us into the valley yonder and to one of those hills where we can camp in what must be a good hunting country. Forward!” They cantered on, drawing rein now and then to breathe their horses, to find that the desert land with its quivering layer of air grew more clearly marked on one side, the country more beautiful and park-like, diversified by hill and dale, on the other, and away in front the mighty peak looking as distant as ever, but with its features more plainly defined. Twice over they came to a halt, the first time being at the edge of a narrow lake which resembled a piece cut off from a tolerably wide river, whose ends had been filled up by the growth of reeds. Noon was long past, but the air was so fresh and invigorating and their level track so easy to follow, that the doctor decided upon pushing on again for another couple of hours, before making a final halt for refreshment, and then turning back. This final stoppage was beneath a clump of fairly grown trees whose boughs formed a goodly shade from the westering sun, and all revelled in the beauty of the view forward as they partook of their scanty meal. “Glorious!” said the doctor at last. “We can’t do better than make our way up here to-morrow. The journey for the mules will be easy enough if we bear more to the left, and they ought to get up here by night.” The others agreed, Griggs being full of approbation. “And two days will easily take us right up the slope of that mountain. Shouldn’t wonder, if we started early enough, if we did it in one. But hadn’t we better be going back now, sir?” “Yes, at once,” said the doctor. “Can you pick up our trail now and then, only leaving it when we can cut off some of the way?” “I shouldn’t wonder if I could, sir,” was the reply. “I’ll try.” “That’s right; but we must spread-out a little, and be on the lookout for a shot or two, so as to have something to cook when we reach camp.” “Partridges, father,” said Chris, unslinging his gun. “Yes,” said the doctor, smiling; “we ought to get one or two of those monsters if we get a chance.” But, as Wilton had suggested, now that they wanted something in the way of game, nothing was to be seen, and they were fully half-way back and the evening coming on fast, but with the moon well up ready to give its light as the sun went down, before there was a fair chance. They had seen partridges again, and sent a flock of ducks skimming over the reeds, but in both cases they had risen far out of shot. “We must get more into the longer grass,” said Griggs at last. “We shall get something then, and as soon as we’ve got enough we can bear off again into the short, and canter.” It proved to be good advice, for about half-an-hour later, when they had been compelled by the thickness of the growth to proceed at a walk, Griggs, who was in front, suddenly turned in his saddle. “Come more into line,” he said; “there is something on in front waiting to be flushed.” The evolution was made, and the six ponies went steadily on through the dense growth with a loud rustling sound, while from time to time a glimpse was obtained of the waving green surface being agitated not far in front, plainly showing that they were driving something before them. “Which way will they go, Griggs, when we flush them?” said the doctor. “I don’t see any trees to the left, sir, or they’d fly for them; so I fancy they’ll rise and make for the open plain yonder. It looks quite clear, and if we don’t bring any down when they rise we ought to canter out after them and get a shot there, or ride them down.” “Too long a task, as it’s getting so late.” “Oh no, sir; they’re very heavy birds. But I don’t like this; we’re getting into longer grass and—down—dismount—quick, every one—quick!” Nobody stopped to ask why, but obeyed one whom they knew to be the most experienced member of the party, and his tone of voice was so eager and intense that all thought the time had come for a good shot, as dropping from their saddles they stood ready to fire over their ponies’ heads. “Well, where’s the game?” said the doctor, after a few moments’ silence. “Here, sir,” said Griggs hoarsely. “We’re it if we’ve been seen.” “What do you mean?” “Look yonder, sir, over the grass out towards the desert where there’s that golden shimmer above the plain.” “I don’t see—yes, I do. Stoop, stoop, every one, or we shall be seen, if it isn’t too late.” There was a quick movement amongst the party, every head being lowered—every one stooping a little to peer over the level top of the grass, to see as it were a panorama of black figures moving along a golden band, a party of some thirty or forty mounted Indians walking their ponies in single file, as if going in the same direction as the explorers, and not a quarter of a mile away. “Haven’t they seen us, Griggs?” whispered the doctor. “Don’t know yet, sir,” said the American, “but if they haven’t they must be half blind. Yes, they’ve seen us, for certain, I should say, and they’re bearing inward so as to cut us off.” <hr /> <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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