CHAPTER THIRTEEN.
THE POWERFUL INFLUENCE OF BAD WEAPONS AND OF LOVE.
While the bereaved parents were thus hastening by forced marches totheir own camp, a band of Blackfeet was riding in another direction inquest of buffalo, for their last supply of fresh meat had been nearlyconsumed. Along with them they took several women to dry the meat andotherwise prepare it. Among these were poor Moonlight and her friendSkipping Rabbit, also their guardian Umqua.
Ever since their arrival in camp Rushing River had not only refrainedfrom speaking to his captives, but had carefully avoided them.Moonlight was pleased at first but at last she began to wonder why hewas so shy, and, having utterly failed in her efforts to hate him, shenaturally began to feel a little hurt by his apparent indifference.
Very different was the conduct of Eaglenose, who also accompanied thehunting expedition. That vivacious youth, breaking through all thecustoms and peculiarities of Red Indian etiquette, frequently during thejourney came and talked with Moonlight, and seemed to take specialpleasure in amusing Skipping Rabbit.
"Has the skipping one," he said on one occasion, "brought with her thelittle man that jumps?" by which expression he referred to thejumping-jack.
"Yes, he is with the pack-horses. Does Eaglenose want to play withhim?"
Oh, she was a sly and precocious little rabbit, who had used well heropportunities of association with Little Tim to pick up the ways andmanners of the pale-faces--to the surprise and occasional amusement ofher red relations, whom she frequently scandalised not a little. Welldid she know how sensitive a young Indian brave is as to his dignity,how he scorns to be thought childish, and how he fancies that he lookslike a splendid man when he struts with superhuman gravity, just as awhite boy does when he puts a cigar between his unfledged lips. Shethought she had given a tremendous stab to the dignity of Eaglenose; andso she had, yet it happened that the dignity of Eaglenose escaped,because it was shielded by a buckler of fun so thick that it could noteasily be pierced by shafts of ridicule.
"Yes; I want to play with him," answered the youth, with perfectgravity, but a twinkle of the eyes that did not escape Skipping Rabbit;"I'm fond of playing with him, because he is your little husband, and Iwant to make friends with the husband of the skipping one; he is soactive, and kicks about his arms and legs so well. Does he ever kickhis little squaw? I hope not."
"Oh yes, sometimes," returned the child. "He kicked me last nightbecause I said he was so like Eaglenose."
"The little husband did well. A wooden chief so grand did not like tobe compared to a poor young brave who has only begun to go on thewar-path, and has taken no scalps yet."
The mention of war-path and scalps had the effect of quieting the poorchild's tendency to repartee. She thought of her father and Little Tim,and became suddenly grave.
Perceiving and regretting this, the young Indian hastily changed thesubject of conversation.
"The Blackfeet," he said, "have heard much about the great pale-facedchief called Leetil Tim. Does the skipping one know Leetil Tim?"
The skipping one, whose good humour was quite restored at the meremention of her friend's name, said that she not only knew him, but lovedhim, and had been taught many things by him.
"I suppose he taught you to speak and act like the pale-faced squaws?"said Eaglenose.
"I suppose he did," returned the child, with a laugh, "and Moonlighthelped him. But perhaps it is also because I have white blood in me.My mother was a pale-face."
"That accounts for Skipping Rabbit being so ready to laugh, and so fondof fun," said the youth.
"Was the father of Eaglenose a pale-face?" asked the child.
"No; why?"
"Because Eaglenose is as ready to laugh and as fond of fun as SkippingRabbit. If his father was not a pale-face, he could not I think, havebeen very red."
What reply the youth would have made to this we cannot tell, for at thatmoment scouts came in with the news that buffalo had been seen grazingon the plain below.
Instantly the bustle of preparation for the chase began. The women wereordered to encamp and get ready to receive the meat. Scouts were sentout in various directions, and the hunters advanced at a gallop.
The region through which they were passing at the time was marked bythat lovely, undulating, park-like scenery which lies in some partsbetween the rugged slopes of the mountain range and the level expanse ofthe great prairies. Its surface was diversified by both kinds oflandscape--groups of trees, little knolls, stretches of forest, andoccasional cliffs, being mingled with wide stretches of grassy plain,with rivulets here and there to add to the wild beauty of the scene.
After a short ride over the level ground the Blackfeet came to a fringeof woodland, on the other side of which they were told by the scouts aherd of buffalo had been seen browsing on a vast sweep of open plain.
Riding cautiously through the wood, they came to the edge of it anddismounted, while Rushing River and Eaglenose advanced alone and on footto reconnoitre.
Coming soon to that outer fringe of bushes, beyond which there was nocover, they dropped on hands and knees and went forward in that manneruntil they reached a spot whence a good view of the buffalo could beobtained. The black eyes of the two Indians glittered, and the red oftheir bronzed faces deepened with emotion as they gazed. And truly itwas a sight well calculated to stir to the very centre men whose chiefbusiness of life was the chase, and whose principal duty was to procurefood for their women and children, for the whole plain away to thehorizon was dotted with groups of those monarchs of the westernprairies. They were grazing quietly, as though such things as therattle of guns, the whiz of arrows, the thunder of horse-hoofs, and theyells of savages had never sounded in their ears.
The chief and the young brave exchanged impressive glances, and retiredin serpentine fashion from the scene.
A few minutes later, and the entire band of horsemen--some with bows anda few with guns--stood at the outmost edge of the bushes that fringedthe forest land. Beyond this there was no cover to enable them toapproach nearer to the game without being seen, so preparation was madefor a sudden dash.
The huge rugged creatures on the plain continued to browse peacefully,giving an occasional toss to their enormous manes, raising a head nowand then, as if to make sure that all was safe, and then continuing tofeed, or giving vent to a soft low of satisfaction. It seemed cruel todisturb so much enjoyment and serenity with the hideous sounds of war.But man's necessities must be met. Until Eden's days return there is nodeliverance for the lower animals. Vegetarians may reduce theirtheories to practice in the cities and among cultivated fields, butvegetarians among the red men of the Far West or the squat men of theArctic zone, would either have to violate their principles or die.
As Rushing River had no principles on the subject, and was not preparedfor voluntary death, he gave a signal to his men, and in an instantevery horse was elongated, with ears flat nostrils distended, and eyesflashing, while the riders bent low, and mingled their black locks withthe flying manes.
For a few seconds no sound was heard save the muffled thunder of thehoofs, at which the nearest buffaloes looked up with startled inquiry intheir gaze. Another moment, and the danger was appreciated. The mightyhost went off with pig-like clumsiness--tails up and manes tossing.Quickly the pace changed to desperate agility as the pursuing savages,unable to restrain themselves, relieved their feelings with terrificyells.
As group after group of astonished animals became aware of the attackand joined in the mad flight the thunder on the plains swelled louderand louder, until it became one continuous roar--like the sound of arushing cataract--a bovine Niagara! At first the buffaloes and thehorses seemed well matched, but by degrees the superiority of the latterbecame obvious, as the savages drew nearer and nearer to the flyingmass. Soon a puff or two of smoke, a whistling bullet and a whizzingarrow told that the action had begun. Here and there a black spotstruggling on the plain gave stronger evidence. Then
the hunters andhunted became mixed up, the shots and whizzing were more frequent, theyells more terrible, and the slaughter tremendous. No fear now thatMoonlight, and Skipping Rabbit, and Umqua, and all the rest of them, bigand little, would not have plenty of juicy steaks and marrow-bones formany days to come.
But all this was not accomplished without some damage to the hunters.Here and there a horse, having put his foot into a badger-hole, was seento continue his career for a short space like a wheel or a shot hare,while his rider went ahead independently like a bird, and alighted--anyhow! Such accidents, however, seldom resulted in much damage, redskin being probably tougher than white, and savage bones less brittlethan civilised. At all events, nothing very serious occurred until theplain was pretty well strewn with wounded animals.
Then it was that Eaglenose, in his wild ambition to become the besthunter of the tribe, as well as the best warrior, singled out an oldbull, and gave chase to him. This was wanton as well as foolish, forbulls are dangerous and their meat is tough. What cared Eaglenose forthat? The spirit of his fathers was awakened in him (a bad spiritdoubtless), and his blood was up. Besides, Rushing River was closealongside of him, and several emulous braves were close behind.
Eaglenose carried a bow. Urging his steed to the uttermost he got closeup to the bull. Fury was in the creature's little eyes, and madness inits tail. When a buffalo bull cocks its tail with a little bend in themiddle thereof, it is time to "look out for squalls."
"Does Eaglenose desire to hunt with his fathers in the happyhunting-grounds?" muttered Rushing River.
"Eaglenose knows not fear," returned the youth boastfully.
As he spoke he bent his bow, and discharged an arrow. He lacked theprecision of Robin Hood. The shaft only grazed the bull's shoulder, butthat was enough. A Vesuvian explosion seemed to heave in his capaciousbosom, and found vent in a furious roar. Round he went like anopera-dancer on one leg, and lowered his shaggy head. The horse's chestwent slap against it as might an ocean-billow against a black rock, andthe rider, describing a curve with a high trajectory, came heavily downupon his eagle nose.
It was an awful crash, and after it the poor youth lay prone for a fewminutes with his injured member in the dust--literally, for he hadploughed completely through the superincumbent turf.
Fortunately for poor Eaglenose, Rushing River carried a gun, with whichhe shot the bull through the heart and galloped on. So did the otherIndians. They were not going to miss the sport for the sake of helpinga fallen comrade to rise.
When at last the unfortunate youth raised his head he presented anappearance which would have justified the change of his name toTurkeycocknose, so severe was the effect of his fall.
Getting into a sitting posture, the poor fellow at first looked dazed.Then observing something between his eyes that was considerably largerthan even he had been accustomed to, he gently raised his hand to hisface and touched it. The touch was painful, so he desisted. Then hearose, remounted his steed, which stood close to him, looking stupidafter the concussion, and followed the hunt, which by that time was onthe horizon.
But something worse was in store for another member of the band thatday. After killing the buffalo bull, as before described, the chiefRushing River proceeded to reload his gun.
Now it must be known that in the days we write of the firearms suppliedto the Nor'-west Indians were of very inferior quality. They weresingle flint-lock guns, with blue-stained barrels of a dangerouslybrittle character, and red-painted brass-mounted stocks, that gave themthe appearance of huge toys. It was a piece of this description whichRushing River carried, and which he proceeded to reload in the usualmanner--that is, holding the gun under his left arm, he poured somepowder from a horn into his left palm; this he poured from his palm intothe gun, and, without wadding or ramming, dropped after the powder abullet from his mouth, in which magazine he carried several bullets soas to be ready. Then driving the butt of the gun violently against thepommel of the saddle, so as to send the whole charge home and cause theweapon to prime itself, he aimed at the buffalo and fired.
Charges thus loosely managed do not always go quite "home." In thiscase the ball had stuck half-way down, and when the charge exploded thegun burst and carried away the little finger of the chief's left hand.But it did more. A piece of the barrel struck the chief on the head,and he fell from his horse as if he had been shot.
This catastrophe brought the hunt to a speedy close. The Indiansassembled round their fallen chief with faces graver, if possible, thanusual. They bound up his wounds as well as they could, and made arough-and-ready stretcher out of two poles and a blanket, in which theycarried him into camp. During the greater part of the short journey hewas nearly if not quite unconscious. When they at length laid him downin his tent, his mother, although obviously anxious, maintained a sterncomposure peculiar to her race.
Not so the captive Moonlight. When she saw the apparently dead form ofRushing River carried into his tent, covered with blood and dust, herpartially white spirit was not to be restrained. She uttered a sharpcry, which slightly roused the chief, and, springing to his side, wentdown on her knees and seized his hand. The action was involuntary andalmost momentary. She recovered herself at once, and rose quickly, asgrave and apparently as unmoved as the reddest of squaws. But RushingRiver had noted the fact, and divined the cause. The girl loved him! Anew sensation of almost stern joy filled his heart. He turned over onhis side without a look or word to any one, and calmly went to sleep.
We have already said, or hinted, that Rushing River was a peculiarsavage. He was one of those men--perhaps not so uncommon as we think--who hold the opinion that women are not made to be mere beasts ofburden, makers of moccasins and coats, and menders of leggings, cookersof food, and, generally, the slaves of men. One consequence was that hecould not bear the subdued looks and almost cringing gait of theBlackfoot belles, and had remained a bachelor up to the date of ourstory.
He preferred to live with his mother, who, by the way, was also anexception to the ordinary class of squaws. She was rudely intellectualand violently self-assertive, though kind-hearted withal.
That night when his mother chanced to be alone in the tent, he held someimportant conversation with her. Moonlight happened to be absent at ajumping-jack entertainment with Skipping Rabbit in the tent ofEaglenose, the youth himself being the performer in spite of his nose!Most of the other women in the camp were at the place where the buffalowere being cut up and dried and converted into pemmican.
"Mother," said Rushing River, who in reality had been more stunned thaninjured--excepting, of course, the little finger, which was indeed gonepast recovery.
"My son," said Umqua, looking attentively in the chief's eyes.
"The eagle has been brought down at last. Rushing River will be thesame man no more. He has been hit in his heart."
"I think not, my son," returned Umqua, looking somewhat anxious. "Apiece of the bad gun struck the head of Rushing River, but his breast issound. Perhaps he is yet stunned, and had better sleep again."
"I want not sleep, mother," replied the chief in figurative language;"it is not the bursting gun that has wounded me, but a spear of light--amoonbeam."
"Moonlight!" exclaimed Umqua, with sudden intelligence.
"Even so, mother; Rushing River has at last found a mate in Moonlight."
"My son is wise," said Umqua.
"I will carry the girl to the camp of mine enemy," continued the chief,"and deliver her to her father."
"My son is a fool," said Umqua.
"Wise, and a fool! Can that be possible, mother?" returned the chiefwith a slight smile.
"Yes, quite possible," said the woman promptly. "Man can be wise at onetime, foolish at another--wise in one act, foolish in another. To takeMoonlight to your tent is wise. I love her. She has brains. She isnot like the young Blackfoot squaws, who wag their tongues withoutceasing when they have nothing to say and never think--brainless ones!--fools!
Their talk is only about each other behind-backs and offeeding."
"The old one is hard upon the young ones," said the chief gravely; "notlong ago I heard the name of Umqua issue from a wigwam. The voice thatspoke was that of the mother of Eaglenose. Rushing River listens not tosquaws' tales, but he cannot stop his ears. The words floated to himwith the smoke of their fire. They were, `Umqua has been very kind tome.' I heard no more."
"The mother of Eaglenose is not such a fool as the rest of them," saidUmqua, in a slightly softer tone; "but why does my son talk foolishnessabout going to the tents of his enemy, and giving up a girl who it iseasy to see is good and wise and true, and a hard worker, and _not_ afool?"
"Listen, mother. It is because Moonlight is all that you say, and muchmore, that I shall send her home. Besides, I have come to know that thepale-face who was shot by one of our braves is the preacher whose wordswent to my heart when I was a boy. I _must_ see him."
"But Bounding Bull and Leetil Tim will certainly kill you."
"Leetil Tim is not like the red men," returned the chief; "he does notlove revenge. My enemy Bounding Bull hunts with him much, and has takensome of his spirit. I am a red man. I love revenge because my fathersloved it; but there is something within me that is not satisfied withrevenge. I will go alone and unarmed. If they kill me, they shall notbe able to say that Rushing River was a coward."
"My son is weak; his fall has injured him."
"Your son is strong, mother. His love for Moonlight has changed him."
"If you go you will surely die, my son."
"I fear not death, mother. I feel that within me which is stronger thandeath."
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