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Bennie Anderson sat on the lee side of the prairie schooner, watching the dancing camp fire and listening to the howling of the coyotes. Four months before, the Anderson family, consisting of Mr. and Mrs. Anderson, Thomas,a boy of nine years, and the solitary watcher by the camp fire, named Benjamin, aged eleven years, had said good-by to Indiana.
Ill luck had always followed the Andersons in that state, and Bennie’s father had said that perhaps a change of scene would also change their luck.So nearly all their belongings had been packed into the canvas-covered wagon,two dilapidated mules hitched to it, the old cow tied behind; and with the dog following beneath the wagon, they had left the tumble-down cabin and the Indiana homestead, and had started for the frontier beyond the Mississippi.
Mr. Anderson was an old hunter, and as there were two rifles in the wagon, not to mention an old shotgun, there was usually plenty of fresh duck or prairie chicken to eat. Among the most cherished possessions was a very good field glass, which had been the property of an uncle who had used it in the Civil War. This glass proved to be their best ally upon the great plains, where the stretches of smooth land are so vast, and the distances so great, that the naked eye is wholly inadequate to the demands made upon it,especially if one wants to see all the wild life upon the plains as Bennie did.
The modest Anderson caravan had not journeyed far into the Missouri Bad Lands, at right angles to the old Oregon Trail, which so many adventurers had followed before and have since, before the signs of buffaloes became plentiful, although the boys did not at first recognize them. It was not until late September or early October, however, that the Andersons saw buffaloes in any numbers. Hitherto, there had been an occasional lonely bison feeding in some coulee, but they now began to see them in larger numbers.
The jolting wagon by this time had pounded its weary way over the plains and through the Bad Lands and the desert-like portions of the prairies,where there was nothing but sagebrush and sprawling cactus, until they had reached a point near the northwest corner of Missouri.
It was not an infrequent sight to see upon the slope of a distant swell a dozen buffaloes peacefully grazing, like domestic cattle. They usually made off at a slow trot whenever the wagon got within a few hundred yards of them. Not knowing much of the habits or disposition of the bison, Mr.Anderson said that they would not attempt to kill any at present even for meat, as deer and other game were plentiful.
So they journeyed along without molesting the bison that they saw,satisfied to leave them alone, if they were in turn left alone. This amicable arrangement might have held good until they reached their journey’s end, in the heart of Kansas, had not something happened that made the killing of a few bison the price of safety to the party. This was an event that no one of the emigrants ever forgot as long as he lived, and an incident that filled one night with excitement and peril.
They had been traveling for two days over a nearly unbroken stretch of slightly undulating prairie. The summer sun had baked the earth till it was hard and lifeless. Every tuft of grass was burned to a crisp. Even the sagebrush that grew in all the sandy spots seemed parched by the shimmering heat. The sky was a bright, intense blue, and each night the sunset was red and the afterglow partially obscured by a cloud of dust.
The watercourses and the cottonwoods were half a day’s journey apart,and an intolerable thirst was over all the landscape.
The second day of this trying desert-like prairie stretch of their journey was just drawing to a close when they noted upon the northern horizon what at first seemed to be a cloud of smoke.
At the thought of a prairie fire upon such a parched area as these plains,a horrible fear seized upon the little party, and Mr. Anderson hurried to the top of the nearest swell to learn if their worst fears were true. On mounting the eminence, he discovered that the cloud extended from the east to the west as far as the eye could reach. It certainly was not smoke, but each minute it grew in density and volume, like a menace, something dark and foreboding that would engulf them.
Presently as he watched, he thought he heard a low rumbling, like the first indistinct sounds of thunder, and putting his ear to the ground in Indian fashion, he could hear the rumbling plainly. It was like the approach of a mighty earthquake, only it traveled much more slowly; like the rumbling of the surf; like the voice of the sea, or the hurricane, heard at a distance.Again the anxious man scanned the dark, ominous-looking cloud, that now belted half the horizon, and this time he thought that he discerned dark particles like tiny dancing motes in the cloud. Then as he gazed, the specks grew larger, like gnats or small flies, close to where the horizon line should have been. Here and there were clouds of the dark specks, like swarms of busy insects. But what a myriad there was. In some places they fairly darkened the cloud.
Then in a flash the truth dawned upon the incredulous man, leaving him gasping with astonishment and quaking with fear. All these tiny specks upon the horizon line were buffaloes. A mighty host stretching from east to west as far as the eye could reach, and to the north an unknown distance.Like an avalanche that rushes upon its way, unmindful of human life, the Thundering Herd was rolling down upon them.
For a few seconds he gazed, fascinated and held to the spot by his very fear and the wonder of it all. Darker and darker grew the cloud. Plainer and plainer the headlong rush of the countless host was seen, while the rumbling of their thousands of hoofs, which at first had been like distant thunder,now swelled to the volume of a rapidly approaching hurricane. The solid earth was felt to vibrate and rock, to tremble and quake.
Mr. Anderson waited to see no more, but fled back to his family, whose escape from this sea of hoofs now seemed to him almost hopeless. The boys hurried to meet him, their faces pale with fright, for even the rest of the family now realized that some great danger was swooping down upon them.
Mr. Anderson made his plan of escape as he ran. To think of fleeing was out of the question. Their slow-moving schooner would be overtaken in almost no time. There was no canon, no coulee in which to take refuge; no butte to which they might flee; not even a tree or a rock behind which they might crouch, and thus be partly shielded. Out in the open the danger must be met, with nothing but the shelter of the wagon to keep off the grinding hoofs, and only the muzzles of their three guns to stand between them and annihilation when the crash came.
Hastily they turned the wagon about, with its hind end toward the herd.The mules were unhitched from the pole and each hitched to the front wheel.A rope was also passed through the side strap of the harness of each mule,and he was fastened to the hind wheel of the wagon, so that he could not swing about and be across the tide when this sea of buffaloes should strike them. This kept the mules with their heels toward the herd, thus securing the additional aid of a mule’s heels on guard at each side of the wagon. Old Brindle was secured to the pole of the wagon, where the mules had been.The wheels were blocked. What furniture the wagon contained was piled up behind to help make a barricade. When all had been made as snug as possible,the family crawled under the wagon and awaited results. The muzzles of the two rifles were held in readiness for an emergency at either side of the wagon,while Mrs. Anderson had the shotgun in readiness to reenforce the garrison should they need more loaded weapons at a moment’s notice.
Nearer and nearer came the Thundering Herd, while the vibrations in the solid earth grew with each passing second. The clouds of dust shut out the light of the setting sun, and made a dark pall over all the landscape, which was like the descending of the mantle of death.
Bennie gritted his teeth together and tried hard not to let the muzzle of his rifle shake as he pointed it out between the spokes of the hind wheel on his side of the wagon.
On came the terrible battalions of galloping hoofs, the massive heads and black beards of mighty bulls glowering through the clouds of dust.Each second the pounding of their hoofs swelled in volume, and each second the vibrations of the solid earth became more pronounced. Like the smoke of a great conflagration, the dust-clouds settled over the prairies until the crouching, trembling human beings, so impotent in this vast mad rush of wild beasts, could see the frontlets of the bulls but a few rods away.But almost before they had time to realize it, the mad, galloping, pushing,steaming, snorting herd was all about them, pounding by so close that the coats of the nearest bulls brushed the sides of the mules.
At first they seemed to turn out a bit for the wagon, but presently a bunch of buffaloes, more compact than the rest of the herd, was seen bearing down upon them as though they were charging the schooner, although they probably did not even notice it.
“Ready with your rifle, Bennie,” called Mr. Anderson, and father and son both cocked their guns. When the bunch was almost upon them, both fired, and a mighty bull fell kicking against the back of the wagon, but his kicks were not of long duration, for at this short range the rifles did fearful execution.
There was no respite, however, for close behind the fallen bull came more,and Mr. Anderson reached for the shotgun, and piled another bull upon the first, although he had to finish him with a Colt’s revolver, which was destined to stand them in much better stead than the guns.
It was with difficulty that the muzzle-loading rifles could be loaded while lying down in the cramped position under the wagon, but the Colt’s revolver,which was a forty- four and just as effective at this short range as a rifle, could be readily reloaded, and Mrs. Anderson kept its five chambers full.
Old Abe, the mule upon the right side of the wagon, now took his turn in the fray, for a bull galloped too close to him, raking Abe’s flank with his sharp horn. The mule let both heels fly, striking another bull fairly in the forehead, and felling him to the ground. But a buffalo’s skull is as thick as a board, and the bull jumped up and galloped on with his fellows.
For a few minutes the two dead bulls at the rear of the wagon seemed to act as a buffer, and the others parted just enough to graze the wagon. The mules, which brayed and kicked whenever the buffaloes came too close, also helped, but presently another bunch was seen bearing down upon them.They were close together and crowding, and did not seem likely to give way for the crouching fugitives under the wagon.
Although Bennie and his father both fired, and Mr. Anderson followed up the rifle shots with both barrels from the shotgun, and three shots from the Colt’s, yet they struck the wagon with a terrific shock.
There was frantic kicking and frenzied braying from both Abe and Ulysses and a violent kicking and pounding in the wagon that seemed to be immediately over their heads.
It was plain that instantaneous action of some kind was necessary if their domicile was to be saved, for one of the crowding bulls had been carried immediately into the wagon. He had become entangled in the top, and was pawing and kicking to free himself. His great head just protruded over the seat.
Mr. Anderson reached up quickly with the Colt’s, and put an end to his kicking with two well directed shots.
There were now four dead bulls piled up behind the wagon and one inside of it, and soon the blood from their last victim came trickling through upon the helpless family. It was a gruesome position, but they could not escape it, and all were so glad that the blood was not their own that they did not mind.
“We are pretty well barricaded now, Bennie,” shouted Mr. Anderson, just making himself heard above the thunder of galloping hoofs. “I think we are safe. They cannot get at us over all that beef, and they cannot get through the side, so I do not see but we are secure.”
“Thank God!” exclaimed Mrs. Anderson fervently; “but I shan’t feel safe until the last buffalo has passed.”
She had barely ceased speaking when old Abe uttered a piercing bray,in which were both terror and pain. He accompanied the outcry with a vicious kick, but almost immediately sank to the earth, kicking and pawing.It was then seen that a bull had ripped open the mule’s left side, giving him a mortal wound. His frantic kicking so endangered the cowering fugitives under the wagon that Mr. Anderson was obliged to shoot him. His loss was irreparable, and the boys whimpered softly to themselves as they saw their old friend stretched out dead beside the wagon.
Old Brindle at this point became unmanageable, breaking her rope, so that the seething black mass swallowed her. “There goes Brindle, too,”sobbed Tommy. “I guess we’ll starve now.”
Poor Shep, who had been securely tied at the forward end of the wagon,cowered and whimpered as though he too thought the judgment day had come, and it was his and Tommy’s lot to comfort each other—the dog licking the boy’s hands, and he in turn patting the dog’s head.
The loss of old Brindle and Abe proved to be the turning-point in the misfortunes of the Andersons, for the herd now parted at the barricade made by the dead buffalo, the mule, and the wagon, so that although every few minutes it seemed as though they would be engulfed, yet the danger veered to one side and passed by.
Half an hour and then an hour went by, and still there was no diminution of the herd. The second hour and the third passed, and still they came,crowding and pushing, blowing and snorting, steaming and reeking.
“Won’t they ever go by, father?” asked Bennie. “I should think there were a million of them.”
“It is the most wonderful thing that I ever saw,” replied Mr. Anderson.“I have often heard old hunters tell about the countless herds of buffaloes,but I had always supposed that they were lying. In the future I will believe anything about their numbers.”
At last seeing that they were in no immediate danger, Mr. Anderson told the boys to go to sleep if they could, and he would watch. If there was any need of their help, he would call them. Accordingly, all the firearms were loaded and placed by Mr. Anderson, and the boys and Shep curled up near the forward wheels to rest. They were terribly tired, for the excitement and the hard work had told upon their young nerves and muscles.
The last thing Bennie remembered was the thunder of the myriad hoofs,and the rocking and trembling of the earth under him. But even these sounds soon ceased for him, and he and his brother slept.
When he again opened his eyes, the sun was shining brightly, and the clouds of dust that had obscured the moon when he fell asleep had been partly dissipated. Here and there he could see an occasional buffalo galloping southward, but the mighty herd, whose numbers had seemed like the stars, was gone.
“It’s the tail end of the procession, boy,” called Bennie’s father. “The last installment went by about fifteen minutes ago. I did not dream that bison could be found in such numbers in western Missouri at the present time. I had supposed the few scattering head that we saw were all that were left in the state.”
This conclusion of Mr. Anderson’s was quite right, but that autumn, for some unaccountable reason, the great herd had come down for a part of the way on the Missouri River on its southern migration, following the old trail of two decades before instead of crossing western Nebraska and Kansas. It had been a costly experiment, however, for all the way hunters had swarmed upon their flanks and they had lost thousands of head. But what did that matter? Their number was legion.
(Clarence Hawkes )
Clarence Hawkes (1869-1954), the naturalist-author, is a native of Massachusetts. He is a member of the American Bison Society, which has for its purpose the conservation of American buffaloes. When he was fourteen years of age, he was made totally blind by an accidental shot in the eyes. In 1893 he began writing and giving public lectures. Among his many books are: LittleForesters; Shaggy Coat; Tenants of the Trees; Black Bruin; The Wilderness Dog; and King of the Thundering Herd, from which “The Thundering Herd” is taken.
dilapidated : old and worn out looking
inadequate : not enough
coulee : bed of a dried-up stream
eminence : height
incredulous : doubtful
butte : hill
annihilation : total destruction
frontlet : forehead
buffer : protection to lessen the shock
domicile : home, here, wagon
veered : turned
diminution : lessening
dissipated : became less
A) Answer the following questions.
1) Who were the characters in this story, and where were they going?
2) How long had they been travelling when the incident of the thundering herd occurred?
3) Where did the event occur and under what conditions?
4) What does the story tell you about the number of buffaloes on the plains at that time?
5) What is most surprising about this story?
B) Vocabulary practice—Choose 5 vocabulary words from the list. Use each in a sentence of your own.
1) ___________________________________________________________________
2) ___________________________________________________________________
3) ___________________________________________________________________
4) ___________________________________________________________________
5) ___________________________________________________________________
C) Summary—Write a short summary of the story using these headings.
1) the journey _________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
2) they discover the approaching herd ___________________________________________________________________________________________________________
3) preparing to protect themselves ______________________________________________________________________________________________________________
4) the stampede arrives ________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
5) the loss of the mule and cow _________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
6) the stampede’s end __________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________