The Pioneer Boys of the Yellowstone; or, Lost in the Land of Wonders

by St. George Rathborne

  CHAPTER XXI

  BINDING UP AN ENEMY'S WOUNDS

  "DO you believe him, Dick?" asked Roger, huskily, after the Frenchtrader had turned his back on them, and the Indians busied themselvesbinding the hands of their captives behind their backs, using deerskinthongs for the purpose.

  "I'm afraid it must be so," replied Dick. "I happen to know about thatknife, and have heard Williams say he prized it above anything hepossessed. It has saved his life more than once, I understand."

  "Then if you recognized the knife it would mean that he is a prisonerlike ourselves," admitted Roger, with a long-drawn sigh.

  "We may be taken to where he is being kept," the other told him.

  "They say misery likes company."

  "Oh! you must never give in like that. I tell you it is bound to comeout right in the end, though things may look dark just now. Such a badman could not win out ultimately. Do as I am doing and refuse to allowyourself to think such a thing can happen."

  "I try to--honestly I do, Dick; but what hope have we now? Here we arein the power of that rascal, who means to see to it that we do not getfree until spring, and even then he may leave us to our fate. And, asif that were not enough, Jasper Williams, the only one who can save ourparents' homes, is a prisoner and will be sent into the wilderness,never to be seen again."

  Dick could understand what a weight rested on the mind of his cousin.Was he not himself fighting against the same depression, and conqueringit only because he would not give in?

  "Listen, Roger," he said, impressively, "there is only one way for usto win this fight, and that is by making up our minds nothing can everbest us. Brace up, and shut your teeth together in the old way."

  "Forgive me for giving in so soon; you are curing me fast now. Ialready feel that things are never so dark but that they might beworse."

  "Much worse," Dick told him, resolutely. "Whenever you feel your kneesbeginning to get weak under you, just shut your eyes and see father,mother and little Mary sitting by the fireside at home. It will dowonders. I know, for I have often tried it myself."

  By this time the Indians had finished binding their arms behind them.Evidently they expected to go to some other place to camp.

  The day was not far from its close. Dick wondered whether they were tobe taken to the place where Jasper Williams was being held prisoner.Lascelles had said it was a camp where his son Alexis and some otherFrenchmen were in charge, showing that he must wield considerableinfluence over the warlike Blackfeet.

  There was nothing to indicate what the result of the pursuit of Mayhewhad been, up to the time they started forth. This in itself gave theboys a faint hope the guide might have eluded his pursuers. They hadconsiderable faith in Mayhew, and believed that he would not desertthem.

  Still, what could one man do against such a legion of enemies, andespecially when in almost as much fear of the wonders of that enchantedregion as the superstitious Indians themselves?

  Some of the Indians walked ahead, while others brought up the rear,once they started. Dick was curious enough to take note of the coursethey pursued. He had a dogged faith to believe that sooner or later hewould want to know something about this ground, for he hoped to treadit again on the return journey to the explorers' camp.

  It was, he found, a difficult task to keep track of their passage. Thiswas chiefly caused by the meanderings of the Indians. Whenever theyfancied they were approaching one of the spouting wells, with its steamcolumn, and its roaring voice, they would sheer off to one side, andcircle around it.

  All this made their course an eccentric one, and Dick found it beyondhis power to figure it out. All he could do was to note the generaldirection in which they were heading, and store it away in his memoryfor future use.

  Roger was close enough to him to allow of an occasional interchange ofremarks. Their captors seemed to pay no attention to what they weresaying; and of course none of them understood a word of it, so the boyssaw no need of restricting themselves when discussing their hopes andfears.

  "I believe they intend to camp before long," Dick said presently, asthey continued to move along through the pine-clad side of the slopethat rose to form a foothill to the mountain chain further away.

  "But the sun is only setting, and these Indians never get tired, sowhat makes you think they will halt?" Roger asked, himself very weary.

  "But Lascelles is not anxious to keep going when there is no need,"explained the other prisoner. "I saw him point out a spot to the tallIndian at his side, who must be a sub-chief from the feathers in hisscalp-lock, and the bears' claws he carries about his neck. The Indianshook his head, and pointed ahead, as if he meant that he knew of amuch better place to spend the night."

  "I hope there's a bubbling spring there, and that it's ice-cold,"ventured Roger, "for I'm dry as a bone, and somehow most of the waterup here is luke-warm, when it isn't nearly boiling."

  "There was that one place we struck," Dick remarked, "where a coldstream ran so close to one of the hot pools that I really believe youcould catch a trout in the one, give it a swing over your head, anddrop it in the other so it would be cooked without being taken off thehook."

  "I can see what the folks at home will do and say when you tell thatyarn," observed Roger, with a faint chuckle, as though for the momenthe had forgotten their predicament.

  "Look, there are three other Indians waiting for us by that dead tree!"Dick suddenly exclaimed.

  "One of them is wounded in the shoulder, too!" remarked Roger. "Oh!Dick, can those be the men who pursued Mayhew?"

  "I was just thinking about that myself," returned the other; "and, nowthat you ask me, I must say I believe they are. That one certainly hasbeen struck by a bullet. See how crudely they have bandaged the wound.If they would let me try my hand I could do a heap better."

  "Suppose you tell that to Lascelles," suggested Roger, quickly. "Itmight make us friends among the Indians, and goodness knows we needthem. Besides, I never liked to see even an Indian suffer."

  "I remember hearing my father tell how, long years ago, when they wereliving up on the bank of the Ohio, they found a young Indian badlywounded, and took him into their camp to nurse. Some of the settlers,who believed that every Indian was a snake in the grass, wanted to puthim to death, but father and uncle had their way, and Blue Jacket'slife was spared."

  "Yes," added Roger, "and ever afterwards he was the best friend thesettlers had. Why, he even followed our parents most of the way down tothe Mississippi, when they descended the Ohio River on a flatboat. Andthen another time, you remember, they won the good will of the greatIndian chief, Pontiac, by saving his life."

  "That is a fact, Roger; and he gave them a wampum belt that kept themfrom the fury of the Indian ever afterwards. Some people may not thinkit pays to befriend an Indian, but we have been taught differently."

  When the three Indians joined the main column Dick tried to ascertainwhether they had been successful in their pursuit of Mayhew, or had metwith failure.

  He knew it would be folly to try to obtain this information throughthe wily Frenchman, who, wishing to add to their distress, would verylikely boast that the frontiersman had been brought down.

  Dick, however, quickly made up his mind that this could not be thecase. The sullen manner of the three braves was enough in itselfto tell the story of their having been outwitted by Mayhew. Then,besides, if they had slain the hunter they would be shouting of victoryand holding up a freshly taken scalp in evidence.

  "Depend on it, our friend got away," Dick told Roger.

  "I was thinking that myself," returned the other, "for they look madenough to bite a nail in two, if they knew what such a thing was."

  For some little time they marched along steadily. Then theimportant-looking Indian, who was walking alongside Lascelles, turned,and called out something in his own language.

  "Good! we are going to stop at last!" muttered Roger. "I can hear thetinkling of a running brook close by. I hope the water is good andcold, and tha
t they let me drink my fill."

  There was no doubt about it, for the Indians no longer kept pushingforward. To make a camp, when far from home, was an easy matter forthese hardy braves, accustomed, as they were, to enduring all manner ofhardships with the stoicism that has always distinguished their race.

  There were no tents to erect, no packs to undo, and getting the mealwas a most primitive operation, since it would probably consist ofcooking some sort of meat by thrusting it in the flames at the end oflong sticks of wood.

  When some of the braves started to fasten the prisoners to two treesthat grew close together, Dick thought it about time to begin makingfriends. Accordingly he called to Lascelles to approach, as he had acommunication to make that might strike him favorably.

  "I have had some success in binding up gun-shot wounds," Dick told him,"and if I was given a chance I believe I could do that poor fellow somegood. He may bleed to death unless something is done."

  The wily Frenchman eyed him keenly.

  "Zat sounds very good, but how am I to know zat you vill not try toescape if ze bonds zey are remove?" he demanded suspiciously.

  "I will give you my promise not to attempt anything of the sort as longas my hands are free," Dick assured him. "Besides, it would be folly totry to run away when you have your gun, and they their bows and arrowshandy. Come, loosen my hands and let me see what I can do."

  Lascelles made sure to get the consent of the chief before he wouldtouch the thongs, but he finally did so. Some of the Indians, learningthat the paleface boy was a medicine man among his people, watched withsome interest to see how he treated the wound of their companion.

  Dick had in truth been unusually successful in handling this particularform of injury, and knew about how it should be treated. He had scantmaterial with which to work, but his deft fingers made up in part forthe want of other things.

  The salve which he produced from his ditty bag was home-made, for hismother knew all about medicinal herbs and their values.

  When, after completing the job, Dick looked up into the face ofhis "patient" and asked how it felt, while the brave may not haveunderstood the exact words, at the same time he must have guessed thenature of the inquiry, for he nodded his head in the affirmative asthough to admit that his condition had been made much more bearable.

  "Now you _have_ got a job on your hands!" sang out Roger, as he sawthe other wounded warriors pressing forward, as though meaning to havetheir hurts looked after in the same fashion.

  Dick was satisfied that this was not an effort thrown away. If hecould make the Blackfeet understand that white men were not theunfeeling monsters they had been painted by the French fur-traders itwould be a good thing. Besides, they knew not what their future mightbe, and the time was likely to come when a friend in the Indian campwould prove a profitable investment. (Note 8.)

  "We ought to call this camp Armstrong Hospital, I think!" said Roger,after it was all finished, and Dick had been secured to his tree nearby.

  "I hope my work wasn't wholly wasted," remarked Dick. "As they havebuilt a fire it seems settled that we are to stay here to-night.Perhaps to-morrow they mean to take us to the other camp, whereLascelles said Williams is held a prisoner."

  "And on my part," added the other captive, "I hope they will give ussome of the meat they've started to cook. When I can catch his eye Iwant to ask Lascelles to get me a drink of water. My tongue seems to besticking to the roof of my mouth."

  "If we could make one of the wounded Indians understand, I think theywould do a little thing like that for us; but the Frenchman seems tobe scowling blackly at me just now. Perhaps, after all, he is sorryabout letting me dress the wounds of the braves; he may suspect thatI'm getting too popular, and that it may somehow hurt his game in theend."

  "Who knows how that may work out?" declared Roger. "One thing is sure,we must keep our wits about us, and try to figure out a way to getfree."

  Dick seemed to be of the same mind, for he nodded his head, and said:

  "If we have half a chance we must try to escape to-night. That Canadianscout in the explorers' camp, Drewyer, knows considerable about theseBlackfoot Indians, and he told me they are very treacherous, oftenkilling their captives as they take a freak, or the medicine man of thetribe has a pretended message from Manitou that they must be put todeath. So we dare not trust them, but must escape by any means."