Harper's New Monthly Magazine. No. XVI.—September, 1851—Vol. III

I struck directly toward the spot where I had seen the object. It appeared to be only half a mile or so from the trail. It proved more distant – a common illusion in the crystal atmosphere of these upland regions.

A curiously-formed ridge —a couteau des prairies, on a small scale – traversed the plain from east to west. A thicket of cactus covered part of its summit. Toward this thicket I directed myself.

I dismounted at the bottom of the slope, and leading my horse silently up among the cacti-plants, tied him to one of their branches. I then crept cautiously through the thorny leaves, toward the point where I fancied I had seen the game. To my joy, not one antelope, but a brace of those beautiful animals, was quietly grazing beyond; but alas! too far off for the carry of my rifle. They were fully three hundred yards distant, upon a smooth, grassy slope. There was not even a sage-bush to cover me, should I attempt to "approach" them. What was to be done?

I lay for several minutes, thinking over the different tricks known in hunter-craft for taking the antelope. Should I imitate their call? Should I hoist my handkerchief, and try to lure them up? I saw that they were too shy; for, at short intervals, they threw up their graceful heads, and looked inquiringly around them. I remembered the red blanket on my saddle. I could display this upon the cactus-bushes – perhaps it would attract them.

I had no alternative; and was turning to go back for the blanket; when, all at once, my eye rested upon a clay-colored line running across the prairie, beyond where the animals were feeding. It was a break in the surface of the plain – a buffalo-road – or the channel of an arroyo– in either case the very cover I wanted – for the animals were not a hundred yards from it; and were getting still nearer to it as they fed.

Creeping back out of the thicket, I ran along the side of the slope toward a point, where I had noticed that the ridge was depressed to the prairie level. Here, to my surprise, I found myself on the banks of a broad arroyo, whose water – clear and shallow – ran slowly over a bed of sand and gypsum.

The banks were low – not over three feet above the surface of the water – except where the ridge impinged upon the stream. Here there was a high bluff; and, hurrying around its base, I entered the channel; and commenced wading upward.

As I had anticipated, I soon came to a bend, where the stream, after running parallel to the ridge, swept round and cañoned through it. At this place I stopped; and looked cautiously over the bank. The antelopes had approached within less than rifle range of the arroyo; but they were yet far above my position. They were still quietly feeding, and unconscious of danger. I again bent down, and waded on.

It was a difficult task proceeding in this way. The bed of the creek was soft and yielding, and I was compelled to tread slowly and silently, lest I should alarm the game; but I was cheered in my exertions by the prospect of fresh venison for my supper.

After a weary drag of several hundred yards, I came opposite to a small clump of wormwood-bushes, growing out of the bank. "I may be high enough," thought I, "these will serve for cover."

I raised my body gradually, until I could see through the leaves. I was in the right spot.

I brought my rifle to a level; sighted for the heart of the buck; and fired. The animal leaped from the ground, and fell back lifeless.

I was about to rush forward, and secure my prize, when I observed the doe – instead of running off as I had expected – go up to her fallen partner, and press her tapering nose to his body. She was not more than twenty yards from me; and I could plainly see that her look was one of inquiry, and bewilderment! All at once, she seemed to comprehend the fatal truth; and throwing back her head, commenced uttering the most piteous cries – at the same time running in circles around the body!

I stood wavering between two minds. My first impulse had been to reload, and kill the doe; but her plaintive voice entered my heart, disarming me of all hostile intentions. Had I dreamed of witnessing this painful spectacle, I should not have left the trail. But the mischief was now done. "I have worse than killed her," thought I, "it will be better to dispatch her at once."

Actuated by these principles of a common, but to her fatal, humanity, I rested the butt of my rifle, and reloaded. With a faltering hand, I again leveled the piece, and fired.

My nerves were steady enough to do the work. When the smoke floated aside, I could see the little creature bleeding upon the grass – her head resting against the body of her murdered mate!

I shouldered my rifle; and was about to move forward, when, to my astonishment, I found that I was caught by the feet! I was held firmly, as if my legs had been screwed in a vice!

I made an effort to extricate myself – another, more violent, and equally unsuccessful – and, with a third, I lost my balance, and fell back upon the water!

Half-suffocated, I regained my upright position; but only to find that I was held as fast as ever!

Again I struggled to free my limbs. I could neither move them backward nor forward – to the right nor the left; and I became sensible that I was gradually going down. Then the fearful truth flashed upon me —I was sinking in a quicksand!

A feeling of horror came over me. I renewed my efforts with the energy of desperation. I leaned to one side, then to the other, almost wrenching my knees from their sockets. My feet remained fast as ever. I could not move them an inch!

The soft clingy sand already overtopped my horse-skin boots, wedging them around my ankles, so that I was unable to draw them off; and I could feel that I was still sinking, slowly but surely, as though some subterraneous monster were leisurely dragging me down! This very thought caused me a fresh thrill of horror; and I called aloud for help! To whom! There was no one within miles of me – no living thing. Yes! the neigh of my horse answered me from the hill, mocking my despair!

I bent forward, as well as my constrained position would permit; and, with frenzied fingers, commenced tearing up the sand. I could barely reach the surface; and the little hollow I was able to make, filled up almost as soon as it had been formed.

A thought occurred to me. My rifle might support me, placed horizontally. I looked around for it. It was not to be seen. It had sunk beneath the sand!

Could I throw my body flat, and prevent myself from sinking deeper? No. The water was two feet in depth. I should drown at once!

This last hope left me as soon as formed. I could think of no plan to save myself. I could make no further effort. A strange stupor seized upon me. My very thoughts became paralyzed. I knew that I was going mad. For a moment I was mad!

After an interval, my senses returned. I made an effort to rouse my mind from its paralysis, in order that I might meet death – which I now believed to be certain – as a man should.

I stood erect. My eyes had sunk to the prairie level, and rested upon the still bleeding victims of my cruelty. My heart smote me at the sight. Was I suffering a retribution of God?

With humbled and penitent thoughts, I turned my face to heaven, almost dreading that some sign of omnipotent anger would scowl upon me from above. But no. The sun was shining as bright as ever; and the blue canopy of the world was without a cloud.

I gazed upward, and prayed, with an earnestness known only to the hearts of men in positions of peril like mine.

As I continued to look up, an object attracted my attention. Against the sky, I distinguished the outlines of a large dark bird. I knew it to be the obscene bird of the plains – the buzzard-vulture. Whence had it come? Who knows? Far beyond the reach of human eye, it had seen, or scented, the slaughtered antelopes; and, on broad silent wing, was now descending to the feast of death.

Presently another, and another, and many others, mottled the blue field of the heavens, curving and wheeling silently earthward. Then, the foremost swooped down upon the bank; and, after gazing around for a moment, flapped off toward its prey.

In a few seconds the prairie was black with filthy birds, who clambered over the dead antelopes; and beat their wings against each other, while they tore out the eyes of the quarry with their fetid beaks.

And now came gaunt wolves – sneaking and hungry – stealing out of the cactus-thicket; and loping, coward-like, over the green swells of the prairie. These, after a battle, drove away the vultures; and tore up the prey – all the while growling and snapping vengefully at each other.

"Thank heaven! I shall at least be saved from this!"

I was soon relieved from the sight. My eyes had sunk below the level of the bank. I had looked my last on the fair green earth. I could now see only the clayey walls that contained the river, and the water that ran unheeding past me.

Once more I fixed my gaze upon the sky; and, with prayerful heart, endeavored to resign myself to my fate.

In spite of my endeavors to be calm, the memories of earthly pleasures, and friends, and home, came over me – causing me, at intervals, to break into wild paroxysms, and make fresh though fruitless struggles.

Again I was attracted by the neighing of my horse.

A thought entered my mind, filling me with fresh hopes. "Perhaps my horse – "

I lost not a moment. I raised my voice to its highest pitch; and called the animal by name. I knew that he would come at my call. I had tied him but slightly. The cactus-limb would snap off. I called again, repeating words that were well known to him. I listened with a bounding heart. For a moment there was silence. Then I heard the quick sounds of his hoof, as though the animal was rearing and struggling to free himself. Then I could distinguish the stroke of his heels, in a measured and regular gallop!

Nearer came the sounds – nearer and clearer, until the gallant brute bounded out on the bank above me. There he halted, and flinging back his tossed mane, uttered a shrill neigh. He was bewildered, and looked upon every side, snorting loudly!

I knew that, having once seen me, he would not stop until he had pressed his nose against my cheek – for this was his usual custom. Holding out my hands, I again uttered the magic words.

Now looking downward he perceived me; and, stretching himself, sprang out into the channel. The next moment I held him by the bridle!

There was no time to be lost. I was still going down; and my armpits were fast nearing the surface of the quicksand.

I caught the lariat; and, passing it under the saddle-girths, fastened it in a tight, firm knot. I then looped the trailing end, making it secure around my body. I had left enough of the rope, between the bit-ring and the girths, to enable me to check and guide the animal – in case the drag upon my body should be too painful.

All this while the dumb brute seemed to comprehend what I was about. He knew, too, the nature of the ground on which he stood; for, during the operation, he kept lifting his feet alternately to prevent himself from sinking.

My arrangements were at length completed; and, with a feeling of terrible anxiety, I gave my horse the signal to move forward. Instead of going off with a start, the intelligent animal stepped away slowly, as though he understood my situation! The lariat tightened – I felt my body moving, and, the next moment, experienced a wild delight – a feeling I can not describe – as I found myself dragged out of the sand!

I sprang to my feet with a shout of joy. I rushed up to my steed; and, throwing my arms around his neck, kissed him with as much delight as I would have kissed a beautiful girl. He answered my embrace with a low whimper, that told me I was understood.

I looked for my rifle. Fortunately it had not sunk deeply, and I soon found it. My boots were behind me, but I staid not to look for them – being smitten with a wholesome dread of the place where I had left them.

I was not long in retreating from the arroyo; and, mounting, I galloped back to the trail.

It was sundown before I reached camp; where I was met by the inquiries of my wondering companions: "Did you come across the 'goats?'" "Where's your boots?" "Whether have you been hunting or fishing?"

I answered all these questions by relating my adventures; and, for that night, I was again the hero of the camp-fire.

THE BEAR-STEAK

A GASTRONOMIC ADVENTURE

The Englishman's predilection for a beef-steak is almost proverbial; but we fancy it would take some time to reconcile John Bull in general to a bear-steak, however much we might expatiate to him on its excellence and the superiority of its flavor over that of his old-established favorite, however confidently we might assure him that the bear was a most delicate feeder, selecting the juiciest fruits of the forest and the most esculent roots of the earth for his ordinary nourishment. It might be supposed that this dislike to bear's flesh as an article of food arose from our national aversion to every thing that is outlandish; but the following gastronomic adventure, related in the pages of a modern French traveler, proves that our frog-eating neighbors find it just as difficult to surmount their aversion to feeding on the flesh of Master Bruin, as the most sturdy and thoroughbred Englishman among us.

M. Alexandre Dumas, after a long mountainous walk, arrived about four o'clock one fine autumn afternoon at the inn at Martigny. Exercise and the keen mountain air had combined to sharpen his appetite, and he inquired from the host, with some degree of eagerness, at what hour the table-d'hôte dinner was usually served.

"At half past five," replied the host.

"That will do very well," rejoined M. Dumas; "I shall then have time to visit the old castle before dinner."

Punctual to the appointed hour the traveler returned, but found to his dismay that every seat at the long table was already occupied. The host, however, who appeared to have taken M. Dumas, even at first sight, into his especial favor, approached him with a courteous smile, and, pointing to a small side-table carefully laid out, said: "Here, sir, this is your place. I had not enough of bear-steak left to supply the whole table d'hôte with it; and, besides, most of my guests have tasted this bear already, so I reserved my last steak for you: I was sure you would like it." So saying, the good-natured host placed in the centre of the table a fine, juicy-looking steak, smoking hot, and very tempting in appearance; but glad would the hungry traveler have been could he only have believed that it was a beef, and not a bear-steak, which now lay before him. Visions of the miserable-looking animals he had seen drowsily slumbering away existence in a menagerie, or covered with mud, and led about by a chain, for the amusement of the multitude, presented themselves to the traveler's eyes, and he would fain have turned away from the proffered treat. But he could not find it in his heart to be so ungracious as to express a dislike to food which the host evidently considered as the choicest delicacy the country could afford. He accordingly took his seat at the table, and cut off a small slice of the steak; then screwing his courage to the sticking-point, and opening his mouth wide, as if about to demolish a bolus, he heroically gulped the dreaded morsel. Ce n'est que le premier pas qui coute. He had no sooner achieved this feat than he began to think that bear-flesh was, after all, not quite so bad a thing as he had expected. He swallowed a second morsel. "It was really the tenderest and most juicy steak he had ever tasted." "Are you sure this is a bear-steak?" he inquired of the landlord.

"Yes, sir, I can assure you it is," replied the good-natured bustling man as he hurried off to attend upon his other guests at the table-d'hôte. Before he returned to M. Dumas at the side-table, three-quarters of the steak had disappeared; and, highly gratified at finding his favorite dish was so much approved of, he renewed the conversation by observing: "That was a famous beast, I can tell you; it weighed three hundred and twenty pounds."

"A fine fellow indeed he must have been," rejoined the traveler.

"It cost no small trouble to kill him."

"I can well believe that," rejoined M. Dumas, at the same time raising the last morsel to his mouth.

"He devoured half the huntsman who shot him!" added the loquacious landlord.

Hastily flinging aside the loathed morsel which he had just placed within his lips, the traveler indignantly exclaimed: "How dare you pass such jokes upon a man when he is in the middle of his dinner?"

"I can assure you, sir, I am not joking," replied the landlord: "I am only telling you the simple truth."

The traveler, whose appetite for further food of any description whatever was by this time effectually destroyed, rose from table, and with a look of horror, begged that the host would acquaint him with the particulars of the tragedy which had now acquired in his eyes so painful an interest. The good man, nothing loth to hear himself talk, yielded a ready acquiescence to this request, and continued his story as follows:

"You must know, sir, the man who killed this bear was a poor peasant belonging to the village of Foula, and named William Mona. This animal, of which there now only remains the small morsel you have left upon your plate, used to come every night and steal his pears, giving a special preference to the fruit of one fine pear-tree laden with bergamottes. Now it so happened that William Mona unfortunately also preferred the bergamottes to all other fruit. He at first imagined it was some of the children of the village who committed these depredations in his orchard, and having consequently loaded his gun with powder only, he placed himself in ambush that he might give them a good fright. Toward eleven o'clock at night he heard a distant growl. 'Ho, ho!' said he, 'there is a bear somewhere in the neighborhood.' Ten minutes afterward a second growl was heard; but this time it was so loud and so near at hand that he began to fear he should scarcely have time to reach a place of refuge, and threw himself flat upon the ground, in the earnest hope that the bear would be satisfied with taking his pears instead of devouring himself. A few moments of anxious suspense ensued, during which the bear, passing within ten paces of the terrified peasant, advanced in a straight line toward the pear-tree in question. He climbed it with the utmost agility, although its branches creaked beneath the weight of his ponderous body; and having secured for himself a comfortable position, committed no small havoc among the luscious bergamottes. Having gorged himself to his heart's content, he slowly descended from the tree, and returned in tranquil dignity toward his mountain-home. All this had occupied about an hour, during which time had appeared to travel at a much slower pace with the man than it did with the bear.

"William Mona was, however, at heart a brave and resolute man, and he said to himself, as he watched his enemy's retiring steps: 'He may go home this time, if he pleases, but, Master Bruin, we shall meet again.' The next day one of his neighbors, who came to visit him, found him sawing up the teeth of a pitchfork, and transforming them into slugs.

"'What are you about there?' he asked.

"'I am amusing myself,' replied William. The neighbor, taking up one of the pieces of iron, turned it over and over in his hand, like a man who understood such things, and then said quietly:

"'If you were to own the truth, William, you would acknowledge that these little scraps of iron are destined to pierce a tougher skin than that of the chamois.'

"'Perhaps they may,' replied William.

"'You know that I am an honest fellow,' resumed Francis (for so was the neighbor called): 'well, if you choose, we will divide the bear between us; two men in such a case are better than one.'

"'That's as it may be,' replied William, at the same time cutting his third slug.

"'I'll tell you what,' continued Francis, 'I will leave you in full possession of the skin, and we will only share the flesh between us, together with the bounty offered by government for every bear that is killed, and which will give us forty francs apiece.'

"'I should prefer having the whole myself,' replied William.

"'But you can not prevent me from seeking the bear's track in the mountain, and placing myself in ambush on his passage.'

"'You are free to do that, if you please.' So saying, William, who had now completed the manufacture of his slugs, began to measure out a charge of powder double in amount to that usually placed in a carabine.

"'I see you intend to use your musket?' said Francis.

"'Yes, of course I do; three iron slugs will do their work more surely than a leaden bullet.'

"'They will spoil the skin.'

"'Never mind that, if they do their work more effectually.'

"'And when do you intend to commence your chase?'

"'I will tell you that to-morrow.'

"'Once more, then – are you quite determined not to let me share the chance with you?'

"'Yes, I prefer managing the whole matter myself, and sharing neither the danger nor the profit —chacun pour soi.'

"'Farewell, then, neighbor – I wish you success.'

"In the evening, as Francis was passing Mona's dwelling, he saw the huntsman quietly seated on the bench before his door, engaged in smoking his pipe. He once more approached him and said:

"'See, I bear you no ill-will – I have discovered the bear's track, therefore I might lie in wait for him and shoot him, if I pleased, without your help; but I have come once more to you, to propose that we should attack him together.'

"'Each one for himself,' replied William, as before.

"Francis knew nothing of Mona's proceedings during the remainder of that evening, except that his wife saw him take up his musket at about half-past ten o'clock, roll up a bag of gray sack-cloth, place it under his arm, and leave the house. She did not venture to ask him what he was about; for Mona, in such cases, was apt to tell her to hold her tongue, and not trouble herself about matters which did not concern her.

"Francis had really in the mean time tracked the bear, as he had said he would. He had followed its traces as far as the border of William's orchard, and, not liking to trespass upon his neighbor's territory, he then took up his post on the borders of the pine-wood which lay on the slope of the hill overhanging Mona's garden.

"As it was a clear night, he could observe with ease from this spot all that was going on below. He saw the huntsman leave his house, and advance toward a gray rock, which had rolled down from the adjoining heights into the centre of his little inclosure, and now stood at the distance of about twenty paces from his favorite pear-tree. There Mona paused, looked round as if to ascertain that he was quite alone, unrolled his sack, and slipped into it, only allowing his head and his two arms to emerge above the opening. Having thus in a great measure concealed his person, he leaned back against the rock, and remained so perfectly still that even his neighbor, although he knew him to be there, could not distinguish him from the lifeless stone. A quarter of an hour thus elapsed in patient expectation. At last a distant growl was heard, and in less than five minutes afterward the bear appeared in sight. But whether by accident, or whether it were that he had scented the second huntsman, he did not on this occasion follow his usual track, but diverging toward the right, escaped falling into the ambush which Francis had prepared for him.

"William, in the meantime, did not stir an inch. It might have been imagined that he did not even see the savage animal for which he was lying in wait, and which seemed to brave him by passing so closely within the reach of his gun. The bear, on his side, appeared quite unconscious of an enemy's presence, and advanced with rapid strides toward the tree. But at the moment when he rose upon his hind legs, in order to clasp the trunk with his fore-paws, thus leaving his breast exposed, and no longer protected by his broad and massive shoulders, a bright flash of light illuminated the face of the rock, and the whole valley re-echoed with the report of the doubly-loaded gun, together with the loud howl which proceeded from the wounded animal. The bear fled from the fatal spot, passing once more within ten paces of William without perceiving him. The latter had now taken the additional precaution of drawing the sack over his head, and rested motionless as before against the face of the rock.