CHAPTER XXIX.
RUNNING BEAR'S SQUAW.
As they rode away to join the herd, which had been moving slowlynorthward, Hallie and Stella rode together, and Hallie was telling herfriend what she felt, and what she thought about her break withLieutenant Barrows.
"That note was the most impertinent thing I ever read," Hallie wassaying.
"What was it all about? Ted did not think it was of much importance,"said Stella.
"And yet it was all about him."
"You don't say so. What was it?"
Stella was not very curious about the letter, for she was too free andindependent to care what an enemy said of her or her friends. She hadthat intense loyalty of character that put tried and chosen friendsbefore all the world, and she believed and stuck to her friends throughall and above all. But this was a characteristic of all the bronchoboys.
She didn't believe that anything any one could write about Ted Strongcould hurt him, at least it could not with her.
"It forbade me going with you on this trip, and said some awful thingsabout Mr. Strong," said Hallie.
"Is that all?"
"It said that Ted was a scoundrel, and that he felt it his duty toexpose him, and that, moreover, Ted had declared himself his enemy, andhe was going to get the bitterest sort of revenge for the insult Ted hadoffered him. And--and a lot more."
"If he wanted revenge, why didn't he take it while he had the chance?Anyway, Ted doesn't seem to be very much afraid, so I'm not going toworry."
Ted realized that he had made a bitter and dangerous enemy.
Barrows would be dangerous because he would not fight in the open, butwould stab him in the back. The way in which he had taken the slap onthe face proved that he was an open coward, but secretly was braveenough in his blows. The shot fired by him at the beef issue was proofenough for that.
But Ted, while he determined to keep his eyes open, was not borrowingtrouble, and soon put Barrows and his enmity out of his mind.
They caught up with the herd in the middle of the afternoon, and Hallie,who had never seen so many cattle before in her life, was delighted withthe experience she was about to undergo.
The weather was splendid, and Stella rode up and down with her along theline, introducing such of the boys as had not met her, and teaching herthe points of the cattle business.
Finally, Hallie got hold of Bud, who volunteered to teach her how toshoot and throw a lariat, and she was perfectly happy, and soon forgotthe unpleasant occurrences at her home before she left.
Stella was just spoiling for a good, hard gallop, and tried to get Tedto go with her in a race across the prairie, but he politely but firmlydeclined the honor, on account, as he explained, that he was responsiblefor the safety of several thousand head of cattle, and as he had been upagainst one failure with them so far he did not propose to face anotherbecause of neglect.
"All right, Smarty," said Stella. "You don't have to go. But you'll besorry if anything happens to me."
"Stay with the herd, Stella," he said. "What's the use of tearing offalone across the prairie?"
"Not very much, as a matter of fact, but if you'd been shut up in a pokyold hotel for a couple of weeks, and only going out with your aunt toshop around in stuffy dry-goods stores, you'd like to get out for abreezer yourself," she said.
"I reckon I would, but don't go far, and get back before dark."
She waved her hand to him gayly, gave Magpie a flick with her whip, andwent flying across the country.
"Hi, Stella!" shouted Kit. "Where you goin'?"
But she was already out of hearing.
"Let her go," said Ted. "She's got one of her crazy riding spells on,and she'll just have to ride it out of her."
In a few minutes she was a speck on the horizon.
"That girl can ride some," said Kit, looking regretfully after her. Kitcould "ride some" himself, and this afternoon he just felt like a goodbreeze across the turf, and no one suited him for a riding companionlike Stella, for she was so fearless and bold, and never balked at achance.
But Stella was gone, and the drive settled down to a steady thing.
We will leave the herd for the present to follow the fortunes of Stella,whose ride that afternoon had so much to do with fashioning theimmediate fortunes of Ted Strong and the broncho boys.
As Stella was borne exultingly along through the clear, sharp air of theMontana uplands, she was singing in a high, sweet voice the cowboy song,"The Wolf Hunt."
"Over the hills on a winter's morn, In the rosy glow of a day just born, With the eager hounds so fleet and strong, On the gray wolf's track we jog along."
As she paused at the end of the first verse she thought she heard anecho of it. It seemed that off to the north somewhere she had heard aneerie "Ai-i-e!" But she listened attentively, bringing Magpie to a stop,and hearing it no more, concluded that she had been mistaken.
Then she galloped on, still singing at the top of her voice from sheerhappiness and good spirits, the other verses of the wolf song, and,although she paused frequently for the repetition of the cry, she didnot hear it until she had sung the refrain for the last time:
"The race is o'er, the battle won, The wolf lies dying in the sun; His midnight raids are of the past, He's met the conquering foe at last. Well done, brave hounds! Thy savage prey Was shrewdly caught and killed to-day."
As she stopped and looked around her at the brown, rocky hills, oncemore she heard that shrill and heart-searching wail.
"What can it be?" muttered Stella, reining in her horse. "Is it a woman,or is it a beast trying to lure me on? It sounds like a woman indistress, and yet cougars can cry like that, also."
She meditated a moment, and then decided to take a chance.
She would search out the creature that had sent forth that desolate cry.
"Ai-i-e!" cried Stella, imitating the other.
"Ai-i-e!" came the reply.
It came from the north, and seemed only a short distance away.
Slowly Stella crept forward up the rocky hillside, pausing now and thento listen.
Once more she heard the wail. This time it seemed to be under her veryfeet, and, guarding against treachery, she drew her revolver, and walkedsoftly on.
Suddenly she stopped in amazement. At her feet lay a young Indian girl.
She was lying on a blanket, and the yellow front of her deerskin tunicwas stained with blood.
Without an instant's hesitation Stella was on her knees beside the girl,working with swift and gentle fingers to unfasten the tunic.
As she did so the girl opened her eyes, and, seeing Stella, smiled.
Then her Indian stoicism failed her, and she uttered a groan andfainted.
"Poor thing," muttered Stella. "Poor, wounded, wild thing. Here lies thewild wolf 'dying in the sun,' as the song says. I wonder if she knew thesong."
But by this time she had opened the tunic and saw a bullet wound on thebrown skin, through which the blood was oozing steadily.
She stood up and looked around for a water sign, and not far awaydiscovered a little clump of willows, which advertised a spring.
She hurried to it and filled her hat to the brim with the cool fluid andrushed back to the wounded Indian girl, who had not yet recovered fromher fainting fit.
Stella bathed her head, washed her wound, and then poured some of thewater between her lips.
At that the girl opened her eyes, and, with another smile, opened herlips as if to speak.
"Rest now, dear," said Stella, with so much pity and love in her voicethat the girl could only smile once more, and gratefully close her eyes.
It did not take Stella long to improvise bandages from some of her owngarments, which she tore into strips, and bound up the wound so that itstopped bleeding at last.
Another drink of water so refreshed the Indian girl that she tried torise, but Stella gently forced her back, and told her to rest.
Stella never rode away from camp
without taking food in a small bag,which was attached to the cantle of her saddle.
She now bethought herself of it, and hurried away for it.
The Indian girl was ravenously hungry, and her faintness was as much dueto her abstinence from food as from the loss of blood.
But when she had eaten she appeared much stronger.
"What is your name?" asked Stella.
The girl looked up at her and smiled.
"I am Singing Bird, daughter of Cloud Chief," she answered.
"You can speak English well," said Stella, at which the girl lookedpleased.
"Yes, I went to the Indian school, and learned to speak and to singhymns."
"How do you come to be here?"
"My man shot me."
"What?" cried Stella, in a horrified tone. "Your man shot you? What doyou mean by that?"
"I am Running Bear's squaw."
"You are married to Running Bear?"
The girl nodded her head.
"And did Running Bear shoot you?"
"Yes. He shot me and left me to die."
"The horrible brute. What did he shoot you for?"
"He said he had too many squaws, and wanted a white squaw."
"Couldn't he have sent you away without trying to kill you?"
"I wouldn't tell him something."
"Oh, that was the reason, eh?"
"Yes, he married me at the school for my secret, and when I wouldn'ttell him he began to hate me."
"Tell me about it. How long have you been married to him?"
"Five months."
"I thought you were rather young to be a wife. How old are you?"
"I am seventeen."
"Where is your home; where does your father live?"
"My father is in the Far North. I cannot go to him any more now. My manhas turned me out and tried to kill me, but yet I live. But there isnothing for me now but to die."
"Indeed, you are not going to die. You are going to live with me untilyou are well, then you can say what you are going to do."
"The white lady is too good to an Indian girl."
"No, that is only right. How do you feel now? Do you think you couldtravel if I was to help you into my saddle?"
"I will do what my sister wishes," said the Indian girl simply, tryingto rise. But the effort was too much for her, and she sank back, theblood spurting freshly from the wound.
"That won't do," said Stella, easing the girl back, and rolling up herjacket and placing it under her head. "You are not able to leave hereyet. At least, you cannot ride."
The Indian girl was perfectly passive under Stella's guidance, and didnot think of having a will of her own.
"I wish one of the boys had come with me," Stella said to herself."Something always happens when I go away alone. I must get word to themsomehow."
"I am going to fire my revolver to bring help," said she to SingingBird. "You will not be frightened."
The other girl shook her head.
Stella fired her revolver three times, and waited for an answer, butnone came.
After waiting a while longer, she fired three more shots.
"No shoot again. Need bullets for wolves. Come around soon," saidSinging Bird.
The day was going fast, and soon it would be dark. She could not leavethe girl to go for help, for with the dark the wolves would come.
Singing Bird had fallen into a feverish doze, and Stella arose andgathered up some dry wood from about the spring, and carried it to wherethe girl was lying.
Stella had some matches in her outfit, and when it got dark she intendedlighting the fire, hoping that the boys would see it when they came tolook for her when she did not return at dark.
Again she brought water from the spring, and sat down beside hernew-found friend to bathe her head and reduce her fever.
As darkness fell she heard vague rustlings in the tall grass, and lookedcarefully about. In the dim light she saw pale-green lights movingabout, and knew that the wolves had smelled blood, and were gathering.But she was not afraid. She knew that she could keep them away with thefire and her revolver.
One of the wolves came quite close to the little camp and set up a howl,and the Indian girl awoke.
"White girl go to her friends," she said to Stella. "Leave Singing Birdto die as the Great Manitou intended."
"Indeed, I will not. I will stay with you until my friends come to me,and then we will take you with us and nurse you."
Stella thought it was time to light the fire, and as its flames leapedhigh, she felt more at ease.
When the wolves came close to the camp she fired her revolver at them,and drove them away.
The hours passed silently, Stella rising occasionally to replenish thefire and look at Singing Bird, who seemed to be sleeping. As a matter offact, the young Indian, who had been reared out-of-doors, and wasperfectly healthy, was recovering rapidly from her wound, although hadit not been for Stella she would probably not have survived the night,for what the chill night air would not have done the wolves would havefinished.
It was long past midnight when out of the west rose a clear, welcomeshout that sounded as the sweetest music to her ear, the Moon Valleyyell, and she answered it, while the Indian girl sat up and smiled ather.
They had been found at last.
Ted Strong in Montana Page 29