CHAPTER EIGHT.
THE CHASE CONTINUED, AND BROUGHT TO A FIERY TERMINATION.
With the unerring certainty of blood-hounds, the three friends nowsettled down to the pursuit of Petawanaquat. From the Saulteaux Indiansthey had received an exact description of the spot where the fugitivehad parted from them; they had, therefore, little difficulty in findingit. Still less difficulty had they in following up the trail, for thegrass was by that time very long, and a horse leaves a track in suchgrass which, if not very obvious to unaccustomed eyes, is as plain as ahighway to the vision of a backwoods hunter or a redskin.
Over the prairie waves they sped, with growing excitement as their hopesof success increased; now thundering down into the hollows, anonmounting the gentle slopes at full swing, or rounding the clumps oftrees that here and there dotted the prairie like islets in aninterminable sea of green; and ever, as they rounded an islet or toppeda prairie wave, they strained their eyes in earnest expectation ofseeing the objects of their pursuit on the horizon, but for several daysthey raced, and gazed, and hoped in vain. Still they did not loseconfidence, but pressed persistently on.
"Our horses are fresh and good," said Victor as they reined in to agentle trot on the brow of a knoll to rest for a few minutes, "andPetawanaquat's horse, whether good or bad, is double-weighted--although,to be sure, Tony is not heavy."
"Besides," said Ian, "the redskin does not dream now of pursuit; sothat, pressing on as we do, we _must_ overtake him ere long."
"Voila, de buffalo!" said Rollin, pointing to a group of these hugecreatures, in the midst of which two bulls were waging furious war,while the cows stood by and looked on. "Shall ve go an' chase dem?"
"No, Rollin; we have more important game to chase," said Victor, whoseconscience, now that he was free from the exciting influences of thecamp, had twinged him more than once for his delay--even although it waspartly justifiable--while the image of poor Tony, with outstretched,appealing hands on a flying horse behind a savage, was ever before him."Come on come on!"
He switched his horse, and went skimming down the slope, followed by hiscomrades.
Soon they came to a place where the ground was more broken and rocky.
"Voila! a bar! a bar!" shouted the excitable half-breed; "com, killhim!"
They looked, and there, sure enough, was an object which Rollin declaredwas a large grizzly bear. It was a long way off, however, and theground between them seemed very broken and difficult to traverse onhorseback. Ian Macdonald thought of the bear's claws, and a collar, andElsie, and tightened his reins. Then he thought of the risk of breakinga horse's leg if the bear should lead them a long chase over suchground, and of the certain loss of time, and of Petawanaquat pushing onahead. It was a tempting opportunity, but his power of self-denialtriumphed.
"No, Rollin, we have no time to hunt."
"Behold!" exclaimed Rollin again; "more buffalo!"
They had swept past the stony ground and rounded a clump of trees,behind which a small herd of animals stood for a few seconds, staring atthem in mute amazement. These snorted, set up their tails, and torewildly away to the right. This was too much. With a gleeful yell,Rollin turned to pursue, but Victor called to him angrily to let thebuffalo be. The half-breed turned back with a sigh.
"Ah, vell! ve must forbear."
"I say, Vic," remarked Ian, with a significant smile, "why won't you goafter the buffalo?"
Victor looked at his friend in surprise.
"Surely," he said, "it is more important as well as more interesting torescue one's brother than to chase wild animals!"
"True, but how does that sentiment accord with your wish that you mightspend eternity in hunting buffalo?"
"Oh, you know," returned Victor, with a laugh, "when I said that Iwasn't thinking of--of--"
He switched his horse into a wilder gallop, and said no more. He hadsaid quite enough. He was not the only youth in North America andelsewhere who has uttered a good deal of nonsense without "thinking."But then that was long ago. Youths are wiser now!
On the evening of that day, when the sun went down, and when it becametoo dark to follow the trail, and, therefore, unsafe to travel for fearof stumbling into badger-holes, the three friends pulled up beside aclump of wood on the margin of a little stream, and prepared theirencampment.
Little did they imagine, while busy with the fire and kettle, how nearlythey had gained their end, yet how disastrously they had missed it.Well for man, sometimes, that he is ignorant of what takes place aroundhim. Had the three pursuers known who was encamped in a clump of treesnot half a mile beyond them, they would not have feasted that night soheartily, nor would they have gone to sleep with such calm placidity.
In the clump of trees referred to, Petawanaquat himself sat smoking overthe dying embers of the fire that had cooked his recently devouredsupper, and Tony, full to repletion, lay on his back gazing at him inquiet satisfaction, mingled slightly with wonder; for Tony was aphilosopher in a small way, and familiarity with his father's pipe hadfailed to set at rest a question which perplexed his mind, namely, whymen should draw smoke into their mouths merely to puff it out again!
When the pipe and the camp-fire had burnt low, Tony observed, with muchinterest, that the Indian's eyes became suddenly fixed, that hisnostrils dilated, his lips ceased to move, the cloud that had justescaped from them curled round the superincumbent nose and disappearedwithout being followed by another cloud, and the entire man became rigidlike a brown statue. At that point Tony ceased to think, because tirednature asserted her claims, and he fell sound asleep.
The practised ear of the Indian had detected the sound of horses' feeton the prairie. To any ordinary man no sound at all would have beenperceptible save the sighing of the night wind. Petawanaquat, however,not only heard the tramp, but could distinguish it from that of buffalo.He rose softly, ascertained that Tony was asleep, turned aside thebushes, and melted into darkness among the trees. Presently he emergedon the plain at the other side of the clump, and there stood still.Patience is one of the red man's characteristics. He did not move handor foot for half an hour, during which time, despite the distance of theneighbouring clump, he could easily make out the sound of an axechopping wood, and even heard human voices in conversation. Then agleam of light flickered among the trees, and the kindling camp-fire ofour three friends became visible.
The Indian now felt comparatively safe. He knew that, whoever the newarrivals might be, they were unsuspicious of his presence in thevicinity, and had encamped for the night. He also knew that when menare busy with supper they are not very watchful, especially when dangeris not expected. He, therefore, gave them another quarter of an hour toprepare supper, and then moved stealthily over the plain towards them.
On gaining the shelter of the trees, Petawanaquat advanced with cat-likecaution, until he could clearly see the travellers. He recognised theminstantly, and a dark frown settled on his features. His first thoughtwas to steal their horses, and thus leave them incapable of pursuingfurther, but Ian Macdonald was too much of a backwoodsman to give a foethe opportunity to do this. The horses were tethered close beside thefire. Then the Indian thought of shooting them, but his gun being asingle-barrel, such as was sold to the Indians by the fur-traders, couldonly dispose of one horse at a time, thus leaving the other two to hisincensed enemies, who would probably capture him before he could reloador regain his own camp. With a feeling of baffled rage he suddenlythought of murder. He could easily kill Ian Macdonald, could probablyreload before Rollin should overtake him, and as for Victor, he wasnothing! Quick as thought the Indian raised his gun, and took a longsteady aim at Ian's forehead.
The contemplative schoolmaster was looking at the fire, thinking ofElsie at the time. He smiled as he thought of her. Perhaps it was thesmile that checked the savage perhaps it was the words, "Thou shalt notkill," which had been sounded in his ears more than once during the pastwinter by the missionary. At all events, the fatal trigger wa
s notdrawn. Ian's contemplations were not disturbed, the gun was lowered,and the savage melted once more into the deep shade of the thicket.
Returning to his own camp in the same cat-like manner as before,Petawanaquat quietly but quickly packed his provisions, etcetera, on hishorse. When all was ready he tried to awaken Tony, but Tony slept thesleep of infancy and comparative innocence. The Indian pushed him,kicked him, even lifted him up and shook him, before he awoke. Then,expressing astonishment at having to resume the journey at so early anhour, the child submitted silently to orders.
In a few minutes the Indian led his horse down to the rivulet close athand, crossed it with Tony, half asleep, clinging to his back, ascendedthe opposite bank, and gained the level plain. Here he mounted, withTony in front to guard against the risk of his falling off in a state ofslumber, and galloped away.
Fortunately for him, the moon had risen, for red men are not a whitbetter than white at seeing in the dark. Indeed, we question theproverbial capacity of cats in that way. True, the orb of night wasclouded, and only in her first quarter, but she gave light enough toenable the horseman to avoid dangers and proceed at full speed. Thus,while the pursuers snored, the pursued went scouring over the prairies,farther and farther towards the fair west.
Michel Rollin, being a lively, restless character, used generally to beup before his comrades in the mornings, and gratified an inquisitivepropensity by poking about. In his pokings he discovered the trail ofthe midnight visitor, and thereupon set up a howl of surprise thateffectually roused Ian and Victor. These, guns in hand, rushed, as theyfancied, to the rescue.
"What a noisy goose you are!" said Victor, on learning the cause of thecry.
"There is reason for haste, however," said Ian, rising from a closeinspection of the trail. "Some one has been here in the night watchingus. Why he didn't join us if a friend, or kill us if an enemy, puzzlesme. If there were horse-tracks about I should say it must have beenPetawanaquat himself. Come, we must mount and away without breakfast."
They went off accordingly, and soon traced the Indian's original trackto the place where he had encamped. Petawanaquat had taken theprecaution to pour water on his fire, so as to cool the ashes, and thuslead to the supposition that he had been gone a considerable time, butIan was not to be so easily deceived. The moment he had examined theextinct fire, and made up his mind, he leaped up and followed the trailto the spot where the Indian had mounted.
"Now then, mount, boys!" he cried, vaulting into the saddle, "no time tolose. The redskin seems to have a good horse, and knows we are at hisheels. It will be a straight end-on race now. Hup! get along!"
Their course at first lay over a level part of the plain, which renderedfull speed possible; then they came to a part where the thick grass grewrank and high, rendering the work severe. As the sun rose high, theycame to a small pond, or pool.
"The rascal has halted here, I see!" cried Ian, pulling up, leaping off,and running to the water, which he lifted to his mouth in both hands,while his panting horse stooped and drank. "It was very likely more forTony's sake than for his own. But if he could stop, so can we for a fewminutes."
"It vill make de horses go more better," said Rollin, unstrapping thepemmican bag.
"That's right," cried Victor, "give us a junk--a big one--so--thanks, wecan eat it as we go."
Up and away they went again, urging their horses now to do their utmost,for they began to hope that the day of success had surely arrived.
Still far ahead of his pursuers, the Indian rode alone without check orhalt, to the alarm of Tony, who felt that something unusual had occurredto make his self-appointed father look so fierce.
"What de matter?" he ventured to ask. "Nobody chase us."
"Let Tonyquat shut his mouth," was the brief reply. And Tony obeyed.He was learning fast!
Suddenly the air on the horizon ahead became clouded. The eyes of thesavage dilated with an expression that almost amounted to alarm. Couldit be fire? It was--the prairie on fire! As the wind blew towards him,the consuming flames and smoke approached him at greater speed than heapproached them. They must soon meet. Behind were the pursuers; infront the flames.
There was but one course open. As the fire drew near the Indianstopped, dismounted, and tore up and beat down a portion of the grassaround him. Then he struck a light with flint and steel and set fire tothe grass to leeward of the cleared space. It burned slowly at first,and he looked anxiously back as the roar of the fiery storm swelled uponhis ear. Tony looked on in mute alarm and surprise. The horse raisedits head wildly and became restive, but the Indian, having now lightedthe long grass thoroughly, restrained it. Presently he sprang on itsback and drew Tony up beside him. Flames and smoke were now on bothsides of him. When the grass was consumed to leeward he rode on to theblackened space--not a moment too soon, however. It was barely largeenough to serve as a spot of refuge when the storm rolled down andalmost suffocated horse and riders with smoke. Then the fire at thatspot went out for want of fuel, and thus the way was opened to thecoal-black plain over which it had swept. Away flew the Indian then,diverging sharply to the right, so as to skirt the fire, (now on itswindward side), and riding frequently into the very fringe of flame, sothat his footprints might be burnt up.
When, some hours later, the pursuers met the fire, they went through thesame performance in exactly the same manner, excepting that Victor andRollin acted with much greater excitement than the savage. But whenthey had escaped the flames, and rode out upon the burnt prairie tocontinue the chase, every trace of those of whom they were in pursuithad completely vanished away.
The Red Man's Revenge: A Tale of The Red River Flood Page 9