Comanche (6 page)

oooOooo

* Told in Guns in the Night.

CHAPTER SIX

ONCE introduced to the art of hunting, Loncey spent much time at it. Accompanied by his grandfather, Ysabel, or on his own, he ranged the country around the village and learned many lessons. After a couple of trips. Long Walker allowed the boy to take along his bow and arrows. Not the first, nor second time did Loncey succeed in bringing down the animal he hunted. A whitetail deer took much more killing then a cottontail or jackrabbit and lived in country which made hunting the more difficult to accomplish.

Soon after the first hunt, the village separated into smaller groups. At that time of the year, the game tended to scatter over a large area and the buffalo, mainstay of the Pehnane existence, had gone north to its hot-weather grazing lands. At such a time the fall village could not find sufficient game in one area to supply its needs and so broke up into various war lodges or lesser numbers to range over their territory. Before separating,
Tawyawp
, Raccoon Talker and the other tribal elders made medicine to decide where the people should gather again for the autumn buffalo hunting. On the result of their estimations—be it by Divine inspiration or just plain guesswork backed by knowledge of the bison’s habits—depended the success or failure of the village’s hunting and the winter food supply for the people.

In many ways Loncey regarded the separation period as the best part of the year. True, much of the social whirl, dances, feasting, visiting other lodges, was to some extent curtailed, but there were other advantages. With only the Dog Soldier ledge families present, Long Walker need spend less time in his capacity of chief and could give more of his attention to his grandson’s education.

The search for food took the Dog Soldiers across their territory in the direction of the Waco Indian country, but that did not unduly worry any of the braves. Like all other Indians, with the exception of the Kiowa, the Wacos were enemies and could be raided, supplying loot and coups to the brave-heart
Pehnane
. Of course some of the old men pointed out that the Waco might regard the under-strength village in the same light, but no warrior paid any attention to such talk.
Tsukup
always took a gloomy, dull outlook, having forgotten the joys of the war trail or put aside their love of fighting.

While looking forward to a brush with enemies, Loncey concentrated on his lessons in the martial arts. He spent much time mastering the secret of throwing his Green River knife, showing typical Comanche and French Creole affinity with it as a tool and weapon. In addition, he now owned an even stronger bow, one approaching full power, and must improve his aim with it if he hoped to make use of its potential.

To help improve their skill with the bow and arrow, the boys were encouraged to test each other in various contests. Loud Voice and Comes For Food’s education kept pace with Loncey’s and the trio frequently competed against each other. Even though hot rivals at such times, nothing endangered their friendship.

Of the three, Loud Voice excelled when indulging in the speed test. In that, each contestant stood on a line and shot an arrow as high as he could into the air. Then he tried to discharge as many more arrows as possible before the first landed back on the ground. Loud Voice developed great speed and always managed to get off at least two more arrows than either of his friends.

When playing at
We’kere
, shooting at the mark, Comes For Food mostly won. To play
We’kere
, one of the boys fired an arrow so that it struck into the ground some distance away; the contest being to see who could shoot nearest to it. On one occasion Comes For Food actually split Loud Voice’s shaft with his arrow at thirty-five yards.

Loncey came into his own when playing the most exacting game of all. To play
Aritisi
, the wheel game, called for quick reflexes and a keen eye. The wheel, a mere four or five inches in diameter, was rolled before the shooter at a distance of ten yards. Made of a willow rim coated in rawhide, the wheel had a one inch hole at its centre and the contestant scored points by hitting the rawhide, or sending the arrow through the central hole.

Playing the wheel game gave Loncey instruction in the matter of rapid aiming and allowing for alteration in position when shooting at a moving object. Even before going on his first hunt, he had learned how to aim ahead and continue swinging even as he loosed the arrow. Once he took to hunting, that knowledge became very useful.

Having already taken a whitetail doe while out with his grandfather, Loncey looked forward to making his first lone-handed kill. With that thought in mind, he left the village early one morning and rode in search of what he might find.

Not for three hours did he find any sign of game worthy of a brave-heart hunter’s bow. Once he came within easy arrow-shot of a jack rabbit, but allowed it to bound away unharmed. The gobbling of a tom turkey calling its flock reached his ears but he ignored it. Only in time of severe shortage did the Comanche eat bird meat and Loncey was not hungry enough to repeat his early exploit in turkey hunting.

Ranging through the open woodland which ought to have produced something that a young man might hunt, Loncey came to the banks of a small stream. Dropping from his dun’s bare back, he allowed the colt to drink. While bending forward to slake his own thirst, Loncey saw something which made him forget it. Quickly wading across the stream, he looked down at what appeared to be the marks of a deer’s hooves; yet were larger than any deer he had ever seen. Not even the big buck brought into the village triumphantly by Comes For Food the previous week approached the size of those hoof prints.

‘Which means a wapiti made the sign,’ Loncey mused, breathing harder.

A wapiti, Loncey’s heart beat faster at the thought. What a coup the killing of a full-grown elk would be. In size, strength and endurance the wapiti rated high in the Comanche’s estimation. Eating its meat was believed to give the consumer some of the animal’s vitality and power. Small wonder that Loncey hoped to hunt and bring down such a prize.

Quickly he hobbled his pony, leaving it by the water and with good grazing. Then, selecting an arrow with care, he crossed the stream and took up the trail. It said much for the boy’s training that he managed to follow the tracks, for once leaving the sand of the stream bank they did not show plainly.

After drinking at the stream, the wapiti returned to the trees but did not halt and rest as a whitetail deer would have. Instead the elk continued to move and Loncey followed on its tracks for a quarter of a mile without any sight of the animal’s tawny hide. At last he realised that he would be unlikely to catch up to the elk while afoot. Returning the arrow to his quiver, he began to retrace his steps. After collecting his horse, he could return and take up the trail once more.

A scuffling sound brought Loncey spinning around and sent his right hand to the waiting arrows in the quiver. He stopped the move as a pair of bear cubs rollicked through some bushes not far from where he stood. For a moment the boy hesitated, undecided as to what action he ought to take. The meat of a fat black bear tasted good, but a cub made a poor substitute for the mighty elk Loncey hoped to kill. Nor would any great skill be needed to make the kill. With the characteristic inquisitiveness and lack of fear of all their kind, the two cubs lumbered unconcernedly towards the boy.

Before he reached a decision, the matter left his hands in no uncertain manner. Preceded by an explosive, rage-filled snarl, the cubs’ mother charged into view. Having already caught the hated scent of man, she wasted no time and charged straight at the boy. At that moment Loncey’s bow felt mighty inadequate and the sow bear looked a whole heap bigger than her two hundred pounds weight. Turning, Loncey fled for his life and headed to where a cottonwood offered what he hoped would be a sanctuary from the fury-bristling sow. While running Loncey discarded his bow, unslung and tossed aside his quiver of arrows. That left him unencumbered and he went up that tree’s trunk like a squirrel hunting its den-hole. To his horror he found that one of the cubs, startled by its mother’s rage-bellow, had also fled and climbed the tree. It perched on the most available branch, backing away from the boy and squalling in a manner guaranteed to keep its mother’s already riled-up temper at full boiling point.

Climbing the tree no longer seemed like such a good idea and became less so by the second as the sow began to ascend the trunk. She came up looking all teeth, claws and showing a desire to tear a
Pehnane
boy to doll-rags.

Drawing his knife, Loncey hung over the branch and slashed down at the sow. Although he misjudged his aim, the tip of the blade nicked the sow’s nose and pain caused her to slide back to the ground. Twice more she began to climb but each time the slashing knife drove her back. On the third occasion, the sow lashed out viciously and by the worst kind of luck struck the knife, snapping its blade against the tree trunk before dashing it from the boy’s hand. The force of the blow unbalanced the sow, causing her to lose her grip on the tree and fall. Landing on her back, she rolled over and rose in a dazed manner.

For a moment Loncey thought he had won. Then the cub on the branch gave out another squalling cry which made her spin around and make for the trunk again. Suddenly Loncey realised that the sow would never leave without her cub. Backing hurriedly along the branch, he twisted around, grabbed the cub, pulled it free and dropped it straight on to the sow’s head. Sow and cub went sliding to the ground in a heap. On rising, the sow let out a snorting command which sent the cub racing off followed by its earth-bound brother. Ignoring the boy on the branch, the sow followed her offspring, bursting through the bushes and keeping going at a fair speed.

Loncey waited for some time before climbing down from the branch. Sorrowfully he took up the broken pieces of his much-prized knife and felt closer to tears than ever in his life as he looked at the wreckage. Fortunately his bow and arrows had suffered no damage, as he found on gathering them up. Sadly he turned and walked back along his tracks to his patiently waiting horse. He knew that he would have to explain the damage to his knife and wondered what his grandfather would say.

On his return to the village, shortly after dark, Loncey entered Long Walker’s tepee. The chief studied his grandson and knew something troubled the boy. Laying his bow and quiver upon his bed, Loncey walked to the cooking pot and helped himself to the food.

‘You found nothing,
tawk
?’ asked Long Walker after the boy finished eating.

‘No,’ Loncey replied and drew his broken knife.

‘What happened?’

‘A bear did it.’

With his head hanging, Loncey told the full story of his adventure. Long Walker listened, his grave face showing no hint of his feelings. At the end, Loncey sat and waited to be condemned for failing to make a better showing in the affair.

‘You acted wisely,
tawk
,’ Long Walker finally said. ‘The bear is a good mother and will fight for death for her young.’ Then, seeing that the boy still felt a sense of failure, he went on,

‘Tomorrow you and I will hunt for the wapiti. Two men are needed to handle so big a kill and we’ll need a pack horse, too.’

Even as he spoke Long Walker wondered if it would be advisable for him to take an extended hunt at that time. Two warriors had already gathered and gone on raiding expeditions, while several more men rode on other business, leaving only a handful of fighting men to guard the village and protect its property. Given a resolute leader, the remaining men ought to be able to handle things, despite their nearness to the Waco country. However, as supreme war chief, any defence necessary fell on Long Walker’s head and he must organise the braves. There had been no sign of the Waco and Long Walker did have a duty to Ysabel too. He must see that the boy received correct education and every encouragement to become a good warrior. A successful hunt would re-establish the boy’s weakened confidence. So Long Walker decided to take a chance on the camp’s safety.

Next morning the man and boy rode away from the camp, Loncey leading a pack horse and with one of Long Walker’s knives sheathed at his side. Although they made an extensive search, they found no sign of elk. At noon they halted and made a meal of some jerked meat the chief brought along. Soon after resuming their hunt, Long Walker brought his horse to a halt.

‘You see?’ he asked.

‘Death birds gathering,’ Loncey answered, recognising the distant whirling specks in the sky as circling turkey vultures.

‘We will see what they are after,’ the chief stated.

Never one to waste an opportunity, Long Walker insisted that Loncey showed how well he had learned his lessons in the art of cautious travel. They did not know what they might find under the circling vultures, so acted as if they stalked a dangerous enemy. Keeping to cover, avoiding being sky-lined or otherwise exposed to hostile eyes, they rode towards the birds. Long Walker noticed with satisfaction that Loncey remembered and put into use the lessons given to him in that vitally important part of a warrior’s trade.

After covering about two miles, doing so in a manner which would have taxed a watcher’s ability to locate them, Loncey and the chief came in sight of the cause of the gathering of vultures. On their arrival, the birds rose into the air again.

‘A doe,’ Loncey said and his nostrils quivered in distaste as the wind carried a stench of death to him. ‘Something has been eating it.’

‘Whatever it was, it isn’t close by now,’ Long Walker answered. ‘The death bird is a coward and does not come down if the wolf, cougar or bear is near to protect the kill. We will leave the horses here and take a closer look.’

With arrows strung ready for use, Long Walker and Loncey walked slowly and alertly towards the dead doe. Taking precautions against an unexpected return of the doe’s killer, one of them watched while the other examined the injuries.

‘A cougar made the kill and was dragging the doe to cover when a bear came and drove it away,’ Long Walker announced after his examination. ‘Since then the bear has eaten regularly.’