The Boy Hunters Read online

  CHAPTER THREE.

  THE PRINCE'S LETTER.

  It is a lovely morning in Spring as we approach their dwelling. Weenter the lawn by a side-gate. We need not go into the house, for thereis no one within doors. The weather is too fine for that, but they areall at home notwithstanding. They are in the lawn in front, and theverandah.

  They are differently occupied. The Colonel himself is engaged feedinghis pets. Hugot is helping him, and carries the basket containing theirfood.

  You would call the Colonel a fine-looking man. His hair is as white asbleached flax. So, too, are his moustaches. He wears no beard. Hisface is cleanly shaved, showing a complexion bronzed and somewhat ruddy.The expression of his countenance is mild, though firm. He is muchthinner than he has been in his time, on account of the amputation ofhis leg, which often produces this effect. His dress is simple. Ajacket of yellow nankeen, a striped cotton shirt, with loose cottonadetrousers of bright sky colour. A Panama hat, with very broad brim,shades his eyes from the sun, and his shirt is open at the throat, forthe day is warm. Thus is the Colonel attired. Hugot is dressed after asomewhat similar fashion; but the material of his jacket and trousers iscoarser, and his hat is of the common palmetto leaf.

  Look at Basil, the oldest of the boys. He is at work fixing some strapsto a hunting-saddle, that lies on the grass beside him. Basil isexactly seventeen years of age. He is a fine-looking lad, though notwhat you might call handsome. His face has a courageous expression, andhis form betokens strength. His hair is straight, and black as jet. Heis more like an Italian than either of his brothers. He is, in fact,the son of his father--a true Corsican. Basil is a "mighty hunter." Heis more fond of the chase than of aught else. He loves hunting foritself, and delights in its dangers. He has got beyond the age ofbird-catching and squirrel shooting. His ambition is not now to besatisfied with anything less exciting than a panther, bear, or buffalohunt.

  How very unlike him is Lucien, the second in age! Unlike in almosteverything. Lucien is delicately formed, with a light complexion andvery fair hair. He is more like what his mother was, for she wasfair-haired and _blonde_, as are many of her people--the Basques.Lucien is passionately fond of books and study. He is busy with a bookjust now in the verandah. He is a student of natural history ingeneral, but botany and geology are his favourite sciences, and he hasmade considerable progress in both. He accompanies Basil on all huntingexpeditions; but, in the midst of the most exciting chase, Lucien wouldleap down from his horse if a rare plant or flower, or an odd-lookingrock, was to fall under his eye. Lucien talks but little--not half somuch as most boys--but although habitually silent he possesses a raregood sense; and when he offers his advice upon any question, it isusually received with respect by the others. Such is the secretinfluence of intellect and education.

  Next and last, we have Francois, a quick-witted, curly-haired urchin--merry to madness--cheerful at all times--changeable in his tastes andlikings--versatile in talents--in short, more of a Frenchman than any ofthem. Francois is a great bird-catcher. He is at this moment engagedin repairing his nets; and his double-barrel shot gun, which he has justfinished cleaning, rests beside him. Francois is a favourite witheverybody, but a great pest to Hugot, upon whom he plays numeroustricks.

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  While the naturalist and his family were thus engaged, a loud boomingnoise was heard at some distance off, down the river. It somewhatresembled the regular firing of great guns, though the explosionssounded softer and more hollow.

  "A steamboat!" cried Francois, whose ear first caught the sounds.

  "Yes," muttered Basil, "from New Orleans, I expect, and bound to SaintLouis."

  "No, brother," said Lucien, quietly raising himself from his book. "Sheis an Ohio boat."

  "How can you tell that, Luce?" inquired Francois.

  "From the sound of her 'scape, of course. I can distinguish the boat.She is the `Buck-eye'--mail-boat for Cincinnati."

  In a short time the white cloud of steam was seen ascending over thetrees; and then the huge vessel came "bulging" around a bend of theriver, cleaving the brown current as she went. She was soon oppositethe lawn; and, sure enough, proved to be what Lucien had said she was--the mail-steamer "Buck-eye." This was a triumph for Lucien, although hebore it with characteristic modesty.

  The boat had not passed many minutes, when the loud screeching of hersteam was heard in the direction of Point Coupee. They could tell fromthis that she was putting in at the landing.

  "Hugot!" cried the Colonel, "their may be something for us. Go andsee."

  Without waiting for further orders, Hugot started on his errand. He wasa brisk walker, Hugot; and was back again in a trice. He brought withhim a letter of goodly size and appearance.

  "From Prince Lucien!" cried Francois, who was sure to have the firstword in everything. "It is from the Prince, papa; I know the seal."

  "Quiet, Francois! quiet!" said his father, reprovingly; at the same timehobbling into the verandah, and calling for his spectacles.

  The letter was soon opened, and perused.

  "Hugot!" cried the Colonel, after he had finished reading it.

  Hugot made no reply, but threw himself in front of his master, with hishand raised to his eyebrows _a la militaire_.

  "Hugot, you must go to Saint Louis."

  "_Bien, mon Colonel_!"

  "You must start by the first boat."

  "_Tres-bien, mon Colonel_!"

  "You must procure for me the skin of a _white buffalo_."

  "That will not be difficult, monsieur."

  "More difficult than you imagine, I fear."

  "With money, monsieur?"

  "Ay, even with money, Hugot. Look you! It is a _skin_ I want--not arobe--but a perfect skin with the head, feet, and all complete, and fitfor stuffing."

  "Ah! mon Colonel! that is different."

  "Ah! you may say so. I fear it will be difficult, indeed," soliloquisedthe Colonel, with a thoughtful air. "I very much doubt whether we canget it at all; but it must be had, cost _what it may_--ay, _cost what itmay_."

  "I will do my best, Colonel."

  "Try at every fur-store in Saint Louis,--inquire among the hunters andtrappers--you know where to find them. If these fail you, put anadvertisement in the newspapers--advertise both in English and French.Go to Monsieur Choteau--anywhere. Spare no expense, but get me theskin."

  "_Restez tranquille, mon Colonel_; I shall do all that."

  "Make ready, then, to start. There may be a steamer going up beforenight. Hush! I hear one this very moment. It may be a Saint Louisboat."

  All stood for a moment silent and listening. The 'scape of another boatcoming up the river could be heard plain enough.

  "It is a Saint Louis boat," said Lucien. "It is the `Belle of theWest.'"

  Lucien, who had a quick talent in that way, could tell, by the sound oftheir steam-pipe, almost every boat that plied upon the Mississippi. Inhalf-an-hour the steamer hove in sight, and it was seen that he hadagain guessed correctly. It was a Saint Louis boat, and the "Belle ofthe West," too!

  Hugot had not many preparations to make; and before the boat had arrivedopposite to the house, he had arranged everything--received some furtherinstructions, with a purse of money, from his master--and was off toPoint Coupee, to meet the steamer at the landing.