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Frank Merriwell's Bravery, a novel by Burt L. Standish |
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Chapter 24. Yellowstone Park |
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_ CHAPTER XXIV. YELLOWSTONE PARK "Hurro!" "What is it, Barney?" "Boofaloes, Frankie!" "Buffalo?" "Sure, me b'y!" "Where?" Frank scrambled eagerly to the crest of the ridge on which his friend was perched. They were in the heart of that picturesque wonderland about the head waters of the Yellowstone River, known as the National Park. Frank had a camera slung at his back, and for three days he had been trying to get a "shot" with it at a buffalo, having been told there was a small herd of the nearly extinct creatures somewhere in that region. Neither of the boys had the least desire to kill one of the animals, and a "shot" with the camera at close range would have satisfied them. And now, in the grassy valley below them, at a distance of half a mile, they could see five of the animals they sought. The creatures were grazing, with the exception of the largest of the herd, which seemed to be standing on guard, now and then snuffing the wind. The moment Frank saw them he clutched his companion, drawing him backward and down behind some bowlders. "Pwhat's th' matther wid yez?" spluttered Barney, in surprise. "If we expect to get near enough to photograph those creatures, we must get out of this right away." "Whoy?" "Did you observe the old fellow who is standing on guard? Peer out and you can see him. He is headed this way." "Pwhat av thot? He can't see us, me b'y." "He might not see us, but he is liable to smell us." "At this distance? Go on wid yer foolin', Frankie!" "I am not fooling; I am in earnest when I say he is liable to smell us. We are on the wrong side of that herd, if so few may be called a herd." "Whoy on th' wrong soide?" "We are to windward." "Not doirectly." "No, not directly. If we had been, those creatures would be scampering off already. Their sense of scent is remarkable." "Is it a jolly ye're givin' us?" "Not a bit of it, Barney; I am in earnest. Their power of sight is not particularly acute, but it is said that they 'can smell a man a mile.'" "Thin how can we ivver induce th' bastes to sit fer their photygrafs?" "We'll have to get on the other side of them, and creep up behind that small clump of timber." "It will take an hour to get round there, me b'y." "All of that; but I shall be well repaid if I can obtain a picture of some real wild buffalo. What a sight it must have been to behold one of those immense herds which once covered the plains 'from horizon to horizon,' as we are told. Now it is a known fact that there are less than fifty wild buffaloes in existence. A little more than fifteen years ago it was said that about three hundred thousand Indians subsisted almost entirely on the flesh of the buffalo." "An' is thot roight?" "It is right, Barney. The hide-hunter has destroyed the buffalo. The creatures were slaughtered by thousands, stripped of their hides, and their carcasses left to rot and make food for wolves and vultures." "An' wur there no law to stop th' killin' av thim?" "No. If there had been, it could not have been enforced on the great plains. The railroad, civilization, and the white man's lust for killing, which he calls sport, doomed the buffalo. "But this is not getting a picture of 'real wild buffalo.' I have pictures of Golden Gate Pass, Fire Hole Basin, Union Geysers, and almost everything else but wild buffalo, and I have vowed I would not leave the park till I had one of the latter. Come on." He backed from the crest of the ridge and down the slope, Barney following. In a few moments the boys could rise to their feet and make their way along. Both were armed, for it was not known what danger they might encounter, and wild animals of all kinds were plentiful enough, from the beaver to the grizzly bear, thanks to the very effective policing of the park by two troops of United States Cavalry. Two regiments could not entirely prevent poaching, but two troops were very successful, and the boys had found sections of the American Wonderland exactly as primitive as when the lonely trapper Coulter made his famous journey through it. Frank and Barney had taken care not to slaughter any of the game they saw, although they had been tempted by wild geese, which were so tame they would hardly get out of the way, and by deer and bears innumerable. The lads believed in the laws which protected these creatures, and knew that this great game preserve and breeding-ground, if not disturbed, must always give an overflow into Montana, Wyoming, and Idaho, which will make big game shooting there for years to come. Frank led the way at a swift pace, keeping the ridge between them and the buffalo for a time, and then making use of other shelter. It was nearly an hour before they came round to the windward side of the herd and began working in upon it. All at once, with a low exclamation, Frank stopped, shifted his position quickly, and hissed: "Down, Barney!" "Pwhat is it, Frankie?" "Be careful! Look there by the base of that bluff. Can you see them?" "Oi see something moving. Pwhat is it?" "Hunters, I reckon." "Afther th' boofalo?" "Yes. They are nearer than we are, and they will be taking a shot at the creatures in a minute. It's a shame! If the soldier-police were only here!" "Nivver a bit do Oi loike th' oidea av seein' thim boofalo shot onliss Oi can do th' shootin'." "No more do I, and I am not going to stand it! Come on, Barney. We'll get after those fellows. We may be able to stop them before they shoot, and then get a picture of the buffalo afterward. Lively now." The boys sprang to their feet and went running toward the spot near the base of the bluff, where they had seen men moving. As they ran, they crouched low, holding their rifles at their sides, and taking great pains not to be seen by the buffalo. In fact, they paid so much attention to this that they did not note how near they were to the bluff, till they almost ran upon the very men they had seen moving there. Then there was a shock and a surprise, for they found themselves face to face with a dozen Blackfeet Indians! "Howly shmoke!" gurgled Barney, as he came to a sudden halt. "Jupiter!" muttered Frank, also stopping quickly. The Indians stared at them, and grunted: "How, how! Ugh!" One of them, a villainous-looking half-blood, spoke up: "What white boys do? shoot buffalo?" "No," answered Frank, promptly, "we are not here to shoot them, but we want to get a picture of them." "Pic'ter? Hugah! No good!" The half-blood was doubtful; he believed they had intended to shoot the buffalo, and his eyes glittered with greed as he noted the handsome rifles carried by the lads. "Lemme looker gun," he said, stepping toward Frank, and holding out a hand, nearly one-half of which had been torn away by some accident. Now Frank knew there would not be one chance in a thousand of getting back his rifle if he let the fellow have it, and so he decisively said: "No, I will not let you look at it. Keep off! The soldiers will have you for killing game in this park if you do not make tracks back to your reservation." "Ha! Soldiers fools! Half Hand not afraid of soldier. He watch up. They be way off there to north, ten, twenty, thirty mile. No soldiers round--nobody round. White boy lemme looker gun." Again he advanced, his manner aggressive, and the boys realized they were in a decidedly perilous situation. _ |
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