by Charles King
CHAPTER XVII.
That storm-burst along the range had turned for twenty-four hours everymountain stream into a foaming torrent for a hundred miles. Not a bridgeremained along the Platte. Not a ford was fordable within two days'march of either Emory or Frayne. Not a courier crossed the Box Elder,going either way, until the flood went down, and then it transpired thata tide in the affairs of men had also turned, and that there was troubleahead for some who had thought to find plain sailing. For two dayswatchers along the lower Box Elder dragged out upon the shallows thebodies of horses that once upon a time might have borne the "U. S."brand, but were not girthed with cavalry saddles now. Nor were therelacking other bodies to prove that the victims of the sudden storm werenot Uncle Sam's men, much as two, at least, of the drowned had beenwanted by Federal authorities but a week before. What the denizens ofGate City and Fort Emory dreaded and expected to bear was that Dean andhis little party had been caught in the trap. But, living or dead, not asign of them remained along the storm-swept ravine. What most people ofGate City and Fort Emory could not understand was the evidence that abig gang of horse thieves, desperadoes and renegades had suddenlyappeared about the new town, had spurred away northward in the night,had kept the Frayne road till they reached the Box Elder, riding hardlong after sun-up, and there, reinforced, they had gone westward to theSweetwater trail, and, old frontiersmen though they were, had beencaught in the whirl of water at Canon Springs, losing two of theirnumber and at least a dozen of their horses. What could have lured theminto that gloomy rift at such a time? What inspiration had led Dean outof it?
Singly or in little squads, many of them afoot, bedraggled, silent,chagrined, the "outfit," described by Trooper Carey had slunk away fromthe neighborhood of the Box Elder as soon as the storm subsided.Solemnly, as befitted soldiers, silent and and alert despite theirdripping accoutrements, the little detachment of cavalry had pushedahead, riding by compass over the drenched uplands, steering for theSweetwater. Late in the afternoon the skies had cleared, the sun cameout, and they camped in a bunch of cottonwoods on the old Casper trailand slept the sleep of the just and the weary. Early next day theyhastened on, reaching the usually shallow stream, with Devil's Gate onlya few miles away, before the setting of a second sun. Here they feastedand rested well, and before the dawn was fairly red on the third day outfrom Emory they were breasting the turbid waters and by noon had leftthe valley far to the south and were well out toward the Big Horncountry, where it behooved them to look warily ahead, for from everyridge, though far to the west of their probable raiding ground, Dean andhis men could expect to encounter scouting parties of the Indians at anymoment, and one false step meant death.
The third night passed without alarm, though every eye and ear wasstrained. The morning of the fourth day dawned and the sun soon tingedthe misty mountain tops to the far north, and Dean saw before him anopen rolling country, over which it would be impossible to march withoutattracting Indian eyes, if Indian eyes there were within twenty miles.And with proper caution he ordered his men to keep in concealment,horses grazing under guard in a deep depression near a stream, mendozing soundly by turns until the twilight came, and then thestars--their night lights for a long, long march. Dawn of the fifth dayfound them huddled in a deep ravine of the southern foothills, withWarrior Gap not thirty miles away, and now, indeed, was prudencenecessary, for the faint light showed the fresh prints of innumerablepony hoofs on every side. They were close on Machpealota's lurkingbraves. Which would see the other first?
It must have been somewhere toward five o'clock in the afternoon thatDean, searching with his field glass the sunlit slopes far out to theeast, heard the voice of his sergeant close at hand and turned toanswer. Up to this moment, beyond the pony tracks, not a sign had theyseen of hostile Indians, but the buffalo that had appeared in scatteredherds along their line of march were shy and scary, and old hands saidthat that meant they had recently been hunted hard. Moreover, this wasnot a section favored of the buffalo. There was much alkali and sagebrush along their trail, and only here and there in scanty patches anyof the rich, nutritious bunch grass which the roving animals so eagerlysought. The day had been hot and almost cloudless. The shimmer of heatalong the lazy roll of the land to the south had often baffled theirblinking eyes. But now the sun was well to the west, and the refractionseemed diminishing, and away over to the northeast a dull-colored cloudseemed slowly rising beyond the ridges. It was this that Sergeant Brucewas studying when he murmured to his young commander:
"I think that means a big herd on the run, sir, and if so Indiansstarted them."
One or two troopers, dozing close at hand, sprawled full length upon theground, with their faces buried in, or hidden by, their blue-sleevedarms, slowly rolled over and came crouching up alongside. Dean droppedhis glasses and peered in the direction indicated by his comrade ofhumbler rank. Dust cloud it was beyond a doubt, and a long peep throughthe binocular proved that it was slowly sailing across the horizon in anortherly direction. Did that mean that the red hunters were driving thegreat quarry toward the village of the Sioux, or that the young men wereout in force, and with the full complement of squaws and ponies, wereslaughtering on the run. If the former, then Dean and his party would bewise to turn eastward and cross the trail of the chase. If the latterthey would stand better chance of slipping through to the Gap by pushingnorthward, deeper in among the pine-crested heights.
Behind the watchers, well down in the ravine, the horses were placidlynibbling at the scant herbage, or lazily sprawling in the sun, eachanimal securely hoppled, and all carefully guarded by the singletrooper, whose own mount, ready saddled, circled within the limits ofthe stout lariat, looped about his master's wrist. All spoke of caution,of lively sense of danger and responsibility, for they of the littledetachment were picked men, who had ridden the warpath too long not torealize that there was no such thing as trusting to luck in the heart ofthe Indian country, especially when Machpealota with his Ogallallabraves was out for business. The cautious movements of the group alongthe bank had quickly been noted by the wakeful ones among the troopers,and presently the entire party, excepting only the herd guard, hadcrouched up alongside, and with the comradeship born of such perilousservice, were now discussing the situation in low, confidential tones.
For half an hour they lay there, studying the signs to the northeast.The dun colored cloud hung low over the earth for a distance of severalmiles. The herd was evidently one of unusual size even for those dayswhen the buffalo swarmed in countless thousands, and finally thesergeant spoke again.
"It's a big hunt, lieutenant. Whatever may be going on about the Gapthey've found time to send out young men enough to round up most of thebuffalo north of the Platte and drive them in toward the mountains. It'scombining pleasure with business. They don't feel strong enough innumber, perhaps, to make another attempt on troops armed withbreech-loaders, so while they're waiting until their reinforcementscome, or their own breech-loaders, they are herding the buffalo wherethey can get them when they want them later on. We are in big luck thatno stragglers are anywhere around us; if they were it wouldn't take suchfellows long to spy us out."
Dean swept the ridge line with his glass. No sign of life nearer thanthat far-away, betraying dust cloud. No symptom of danger anywherewithin their ken. He was thinking at the moment of that precious packagein his saddle-bags and the colonel's words impressing him with the senseof responsibility the night they parted at Fort Emory. To-morrow, bysunrise, if fortune favored him, he could turn it over to the commandingofficer at the new stockade, and then if the Indians were not gatheredin force about the post and actually hostile, he could slip out again atnight and make swift dash for the Platte and the homeward way, and thenwithin the week rejoin his sister at Fort Emory--his sister and"Pappoose." Never before had the Indian pet name carried suchsignificance as now. Night and day those soft, dark eyes--that beautifulface--haunted his thoughts and filled his young heart with new andpassionate longing. It was hard to ha
ve to leave the spot her presencemade enchanted ground. Nothing but the spur of duty, the thrill ofsoldier achievement and stirring venture could have reconciled him tothat unwelcome order.
In one week now, if fortune favored and heaven spared, he could hope tolook again into the eyes that had so enchained him, but if there shouldinterpose the sterner lot of the frontier, if the Sioux should learn ofhis presence, he who had thwarted Burning Star and the brothers of poorLizette in their schemes of vengeance, he at whose door the Ogallallasmust by this time have laid the death of one of their foremost braves,then indeed would there be no hope of getting back without a battleroyal. There was only one chance of safety--that the Indians should notdiscover their presence. If they did and realized who the intruderswere, Jessie Dean might look in vain for her brother's return. Pappoosewould never hear the love words that, trembling on his lips the night heleft her, had been poured out only to that unresponsive picture. Twoways there were in which the Indians could know of his presence. One bybeing informed through some half-breed spy, lurking about Frayne; butthen who would be dastard enough to send such word? The other by beingseen and recognized by some of the Ogallalla band, and thus far hebelieved they had come undetected, and it was now after fiveo'clock--after five o'clock and all was well. In a few hours they couldagain be on their starlit way. With the morrow they should be safelywithin the gates of the new stockade at Warrior Gap.
Turning with hope and relief in his face to speak to Sergeant Bruce, wholay there at his elbow, he saw the blue-sleeved arm stretching forth inwarning to lie low, and with grave eyes the veteran was gazing straightat a little butte that rose from the rolling surface not more than halfa mile away to the southeast.
"Lieutenant," he whispered, "there are Indians back of that hill at thisminute, and it isn't buffalo they're laying for."
Dean was brave. He had been tried and his mettle was assured, and yet hefelt the sudden chill that coursed his veins. "How can they have seenus," he murmured.
"May have struck our trail out to the southwest," said Bruce slowly, "orthey may have been told of our coming and are stalking us. They've got aheavy score to settle with this troop, you know."
For a moment only the breathing of the little party could be heard. Alleyes were fixed upon the distant mound. At last Dean spoke again.
"When did you see them first and how many are there?"
"Near ten minutes ago. I saw something fluttering swift along the skyline just beyond that divide to the south. It skimmed like a bird, allbut the quick bobbing up and down that made me sure there was agalloping pony under it. Then another skimmed along. It was the bunch offeathers and red flannel on their lances, and my belief is that theystruck our trail back here somewhere, and that there's only a smallparty, and they don't know just who we are and they want to find out."
"You're right. Look!" was Dean's sudden answer, for at the very instantthere rode boldly, calmly into full view two young Indians, who withcool deliberation came jogging on at gentle speed, straight toward theconcealed bivouac of the troopers. Instantly Bruce reached for hiscarbine, and two or three of the men went sliding or crouching backwarddown the slope as though in quest of their arms. Full eight hundredyards away were the riders at the moment, coming side by side inapparent unconcern.
"Don't," muttered Dean, with hand outstretched. "They look anything buthostile."
"That's when they're most likely to be full of hell, sir," was theprompt answer. "See! others are watching behind that knoll," and indeedas Bruce declared, a feather-decked head or two could be detectedthrough the glass, peering over the summit.
"Warn them to halt, then," cried Dean. "But we cannot fire unless theyprovoke it."
Bruce was on his feet in a second. Standing erect and facing straighttoward the coming pair, he raised his right hand, palm to the front, tothe full length of his arm, and slowly motioned "stand." Every plainsmanknows the signal. In well-acted surprise, the Indians reined theirponies flat back, and, shading their eyes with their hands a moment,remained motionless. Then, as with one accord, each tossed aside hisrifle, and one of them further lifted high and displayed a revolver.This, too, he tossed out on the turf, and now with both arms bare andextended on high, with empty hands outspread, they slowly advanced asthough saying "See, we are without arms. We come as brothers."
But the sergeant never hesitated. Almost on tiptoe he repeated thesignal "halt," and half-turned imploringly to his officer.
"It's all a bluff, sir. They want to crawl upon us, see who and how manywe are. Let some of us fire warning shots or come they will, and themoment they find out who we are, away they'll ride to bring Red Cloudand all his bucks about our ears."
"I cannot fire," was the answer. "That's their flag of truce and we mustnot ignore it. Let them come, sergeant; I'll meet them."