# The red book of animal stories/Charley

CHARLEY
It is nearly seventy years since an American, named Catlin, set out from his home in Wyoming to travel westwards through the great country which was then only inhabited by Indians and wild animals, but is now full of nourishing towns.
In the course of one of these journeys Catlin fell very ill, and it was many weeks before he was fit to leave his bed. When, however, he got better again, he sent for his horse, Charley, which had grown fat on prairie grass—and looked very unlike his master—and the two prepared to start for the River Missouri, more than five hundred miles away.
Catlin’s heavy luggage was sent by steamer to meet him at St. Louis, on the Mississippi, but there was still a good deal left for Charley to carry. A bear-skin and a buffalo robe were spread across his saddle, a coffee-pot and a teacup were tied to it, a small portmanteau was fastened somewhere else, and in the portmanteau was a supply of hard biscuits; while Catlin sat in any space that was left, with a little compass in his pocket to show him which way to go, and a gun and a pair of pistols in his belt, in case man or beast should attack him.
So day after day Charley and his master rode on toward the north, through plains of grass all covered with flowers. Every night when the sun set Catlin jumped off and unloaded his horse, which he tied up, or ‘picketed,’ with a long rope, so that Charley should have plenty of room for feeding. Then he lit a fire to keep off ​the wolves, whose snarls and howls were always to be heard in the distance, and lying down on his bearskin with his saddle for a pillow and his buffalo robe for a blanket, Catlin curled himself up, and slept soundly till morning.
One evening Charley was picketed as usual, and his master had gone down to the banks of the stream to get some water for his coffee, when the horse, being in a mischievous frame of mind, slipped his rope, and went off towards a patch of grass, which he thought looked much greener and juicier than what he had been eating. Catlin soon saw what had happened, and picking up the lasso with which wild horses are always caught, he started after the runaway.
But it was no use; Charley knew all about lassoes, and exactly how far it was safe to let them get near you. Besides, he wanted to have a little fun and to tease his master, and each time the lasso was thrown Charley was always just a tiny bit out of reach. It soon grew too dark even to see where the horse was, and as Catlin was still weak from his illness, and easily tired, he gave up the chase, and stretching himself out before the fire, made up his mind that he would have to finish his journey on foot.
It was the middle of the night when he woke with a start, feeling some huge creature bending over him. An Indian, of course, which had tracked him while he slept, and had followed him to take his scalp! For an instant the poor man’s heart stood still; then a soft nose touched him—and the Indians’ noses are not soft, and they are not much in the habit of rubbing people’s faces with them! It must be Charley after all, and Charley it was, standing with his fore-paws on his master’s bed, his head nodding in a sound slumber!
As soon as Catlin got over his fright he went off to sleep again, and did not wake until the sun was well above the horizon. His first thought was for Charley,
THEN A SOFT NOSE TOUCHED HIM
​and great was his relief to see that naughty animal having breakfast at the edge of the stream, looking as if no idea of running away had ever occurred to him! But he was still inclined for a game, for when his master, after a hasty meal of coffee and biscuit, came down to the stream to catch him, Charley danced about a little more, taking care just to keep out of reach.
At last Catlin thought he would try what a trick would do, and flinging the skins round his own body, and the saddle over his back, he began to walk away. For a quarter of a mile he tramped on steadily without once looking round, then he took a hasty glance over his shoulder. Charley was standing quite still near the fire, which was still burning, watching his master. Suddenly he went straight up to the place where Catlin had slept, and finding nothing there, threw up his head and neighed loudly. In another moment something rushed wildly past Catlin, who was walking steadily on, and, wheeling sharply round, stood trembling before him.
Catlin took care not to do anything which might startle the penitent, and called him gently by his name. But Charley had had a fright, too, and had no longer any wish to play with his master. So when Catlin drew near him with the bridle in his hand, he actually bent his head to receive it, and remained perfectly quiet while the saddle was being fastened on his back.
All through that day they journeyed on over the prairie, with its endless waves of flowery grass, and late in the afternoon arrived at a beautiful little valley, where Catlin determined to pass the night—and this time he determined he would run no risks with Charley. A clear stream ran through a smooth lawn, and in the stream were fish, and on it was a brood of fine young ducks. Large trees were dotted over the smooth grass, and between the wild plum and cherry trees laden with fruit hung vines bearing clusters of purple grapes. Underneath, the ground was bright with sunflowers and sweet with lilies and violets. ​No place could be more lovely and peaceful; and after making a hearty supper of perch and broiled duck, Catlin went for a stroll to explore a little further.
Five hundred miles is a long way to ride, and in the course of his journey through the prairies Catlin had to cross several of the big rivers which run into the Missouri or the Mississippi. This was not always easy, for there were no bridges to be found, and the streams were often both deep and rapid. There was also another danger to be feared, besides that of being drowned or falling a prey to the Indians; and this was the very deep ditches or sunken streams, with their tops entirely hidden by the long grass, into which a horse might suddenly fall and injure himself and his rider. After a while, Catlin learned to be on the look-out for these pitfalls, and to know their signs, and as they had to be crossed somehow, there was nothing for it but to go at them boldly, and to trust to luck to getting out again. This was generally a very difficult matter; the streams were often full of mud, and till you were in the middle of them you had no notion how deep they were, and not always then. On one occasion Catlin had ridden along the edge of a stream of this kind, in order to find a ford, but as this seemed hopeless, he plunged in at a place where it was six or eight yards wide—as to the bottom, they never touched that at all. They made for the bank, which was of clay, and rose straight out of the water. Catlin managed to catch hold of the top and drag himself up, clutching Charley’s bridle in his hand; but he saw directly it was quite impossible for the poor horse to follow him. Still holding the bridle, Catlin pushed his way for a mile through the tall grass, that often closed in above his head, Charley patiently swimming all the while in the thick muddy water. At length it was clear he could not keep up much longer, and his master, nearly as exhausted as himself, was just about to drop the bridle, and leave him to his fate, when they came to a spot where the banks had been ​trodden down by a herd of buffaloes, and, trembling with fatigue and fear, Charley staggered out, and lay down in the soft grass to be dried by the sun.
When the two travellers reached the Osage river they found it so swollen by the heavy rains that it had spread to a width of sixty or eighty yards, and had a fierce and rapid current that swept everything before it. Catlin at once unloaded Charley and tied him safely up to feed, while he wandered along the banks for some distance collecting all the wood that had been carried down by the stream and had stuck along the edge. With this he made a small raft, and on the raft he lashed his skins, his guns, his portmanteau, and even the clothes he had on. This done, Charley was driven into the river, and left to cross by himself, which he managed very well, in spite of the current, and soon might be seen enjoying his dinner on the opposite shore. Then his master plunged in after him, and pushing the raft in front, landed it safely about half a mile below. This sounds easy enough in the telling, but any one who has ever watched a river in flood, and knows the great trees and big animals that it hurries along, will understand how many things Catlin had to dodge in that short distance, and how glad he. must have felt to be on Charley’s back again.