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

by St. George Rathborne

  CHAPTER XXX

  ALLIES WITH COPPER-COLORED SKINS

  WHEN Mayhew made that dire announcement it sent a foreboding of comingtrouble straight to the hearts of his young companions.

  If the wily red men had succeeded in surrounding them, so that therewas no chance of escape, they might as well give up all hope ofsaving themselves from capture. Poor Roger, who had so recently beenbrimming over with confidence concerning the ultimate success of theirexpedition to the camp of the Frenchmen, now found himself sinking oncemore into a pit of despair.

  "What had we better do, Mayhew?" asked Dick, grimly.

  "That is for you to decide," replied the scout. "Each one will have tofollow his own bent. As for myself, I know well that capture would meandeath at the stake for me. So I shall fight to the last gasp, and, ifthe chance comes, try to make my escape as I did before. A man can diebut once, and better in battle than by fire."

  Dick hardly knew what to say or do. He had a charge in his gun, it istrue, and with ordinary luck that might account for a single Indian;but would it be the part of wisdom to enrage the savages by this rashact?

  He turned to the right and to the left. Yes, even as Mayhew had said,there were enemies concealed everywhere, for he could see featheredheads rising from behind various sheltering bushes.

  Flight seemed impossible, and, while the thought of surrender chilledhis blood, it began to look as though there might be no other course.

  Then all at once Roger heard his cousin give a low cry. It was notalarm that rang in that utterance, but rather sudden surprise, evenhope. Roger could not guess what it meant, but turning toward hiscomrade, he seized hold of his arm and stared in the other's face.

  To his amazement Roger saw what looked like an expanding smilebeginning to appear there. He feared Dick must be going out of hismind when he could show signs of pleasure upon facing such a terriblecondition as that by which they were now confronted.

  "Mayhew, look again!" cried Dick. "Pay closer attention to the feathersin their scalp-locks! Tell me if they are not different from thefeathers the Blackfeet wear!"

  It was the frontiersman now who uttered a cry.

  "Yes, yes, you are right, boy! These are not Blackfoot braves!"

  "They are Sioux warriors, and, it may be, fresh from the village of ourfriend, the chief, Running Elk!" said Dick.

  Roger found his voice at hearing that glorious news.

  "Try them, Dick!" he exclaimed, excitedly. "Give them the sign thechief taught us! Let them know we are friends, and not enemies! Yes, Ican tell the feathers are those of our friends, the Sioux. It is goingto be all right after all!"

  Dick meanwhile took out a piece of white linen he had with him andstarted to wave it.

  At the same time he made certain gesticulations with his other handthat would have a meaning in the eyes of Sioux braves, if, as theyhoped, these hidden red men proved to be such.

  At first no notice was taken of his signals. Perhaps the wily warriorssuspected that it might be some sort of trap to catch them unawares;but, as Dick continued his motions, they presently met with a response.

  Several Indians cautiously arose to their feet, making responsivegestures. Then they started to advance toward the spot where the threepalefaces stood.

  "Why," exploded Roger, "look at every bush giving up a brave! Theremust be twenty of them, all told. How lucky for us they are Sioux, andnot Blackfeet, the allies of Lascelles."

  From every quarter the Indians now advanced, forming a complete cordonaround Dick and his friends, who awaited their coming calmly, confidentas to the result of the meeting.

  "Dick," said Roger, "I am sure I know that man in the lead, with thefeathers of a chief in his long black hair, and the bears' claws aroundhis neck."

  "Yes," the other remarked, "I was just going to say the same thing. Heis a sub-chief by the name of Beaver Tail. Surely he should rememberus, and what we did to make his chief our friend."

  "Will he remember us, do you think?" continued Roger, apprehensively.

  "Have no fear," Dick assured him; "all will be well. An Indian, oncea friend, can be depended on forever. I am only too glad now I held myfire."

  As the first of the Indians came up, the boys waited anxiously tosee whether they would be recognized by the sub-chief. To theirsatisfaction Beaver Tail immediately greeted them as friends, after themanner of his tribe.

  Others of the warriors must also have discovered that they had seen twoof the palefaces among the lodges in their home village, for there werenumerous grunts and friendly nods among them.

  "How can we let Beaver Tail know what we are here for, and beg him tohelp us save Williams from the Frenchmen?" Dick now asked. "The chancesare that not one of the braves or the chief himself can speak a word ofEnglish. Shall we make signs in the snow, and tell him that way?"

  "Leave it to me, lad," Mayhew told him. "I have a little smattering ofthe Sioux tongue, for once upon a time I was a prisoner among theirwigwams for months. With the aid of signs I shall be able to tell himthe story of how we seek Williams, the man who was in your company atthe time their chief set you free. And they will, I feel sure, help uscarry out our plan."

  Both the pioneer boys watched Mayhew with intense eagerness as he facedBeaver Tail and commenced to speak to him in his own language. Thechief looked astonished and pleased as well, for he had never dreamedthat a paleface could talk in the Dacotah tongue. (Note 10.)

  While Mayhew was talking Dick watched the face of Beaver Tail. He couldsee that by degrees the chief was catching the drift of what the guidetried to explain. Of course this consisted in the main of their desireto overtake Williams, who had set off on a hunting trip, and more tothe effect of how he had been unlucky enough to fall into the handsof the Blackfeet, who were acting in conjunction with certain Frenchtraders.

  It was a clever idea on the part of the guide to bring in theBlackfeet, because, as he very well knew, there was never-ending warbetween that tribe and the Sioux. This would make Beaver Tail all themore willing, even eager, to lend his aid in effecting the rescue ofWilliams.

  Step by step Mayhew advanced. When his limited stock of words failedhim, the guide resorted to crude drawings on the snow, at which devicehe seemed to be quite adept, if the boys could judge from the chorusof "how-how" that broke from the crowd of braves after each effort inthis line, and which they judged meant appreciation on the part of theinterested onlookers.

  Finally the guide had reached the conclusion. He must have asked BeaverTail to help the paleface friends of the great chief, Running Elk, torescue their companion from the hated enemy, because the Indian wasnodding his head as though the proposition struck him favorably.

  Then he commenced talking in return. When he saw from the puzzledexpression on the face of Mayhew that the frontiersman failed tocatch the idea he was trying to express, the chief turned to the signlanguage, upon which his race have always relied when communicatingwith each other, or to commemorate great events such as gloriousvictories.

  "What does he say, Mayhew?" asked Roger.

  "He knows where the Frenchmen have their camp, and it is, as webelieved, over on the big water," replied the guide.

  "Good! And will he take us there, and help us rescue Jasper?" continuedRoger.

  "He says he will," Mayhew announced, with a happy smile on hisweatherbeaten face, for things had taken a decided turn in theirfavor, and he began to imagine himself back in the main camp, ready tomake another attempt at taking that message down to the mouth of theMissouri River.

  "When?" continued the impatient Roger.

  "We can be heading over that way as soon as we feel like it," the guideexplained. "The lake is about seven miles from here, as near as I canmake him out from his sign drawing. Once we get close by we must waitfor night to come. It is against Injun nature to ever make an attack inbroad daylight, when it can be avoided."

  "So long as they do not injure Jasper it will not matter much," Rogeradmitted.

  "If they ha
ve not hurt him up to now I do not think anything is goingto happen before night comes around," Dick told him.

  As there was nothing more to be arranged Mayhew managed to tell thechief that they gladly accepted his offer of assistance, and placedthemselves wholly in his hands. Perhaps the artful frontiersman,knowing the nature of all Indians, managed to convey more or lessflattery in his speech. At any rate Beaver Tail gave evidences ofbeing greatly pleased by it, and even went around shaking hands withthe three palefaces, in the same way he had seen the head chief,Running Elk, do on a former occasion.

  It was a fortunate thing for the exploring expedition that membersof their party had been able to make friends with this tribe of thepowerful Sioux nation so early in their invasion of the hunting groundsof these Western Indians.

  Dick and Roger had shot a savage panther that was about to leap fromthe limb of a tree upon an old Indian squaw and a little girl. Lateron, when the boys found themselves prisoners of the Sioux, this squaw,who turned out to be a sister of the great chief, Running Elk, and thechild Dove Eye his own daughter, saved their lives; and from that timeon the Sioux, at least that particular tribe, were on friendly termswith the explorers.

  Accompanied by that host of fighting warriors, Dick and his partypushed on into the east for several hours, not trying to make any fasttime, however, since they were in no particular hurry to arrive beforeevening.

  "If you have been taking notice of the fact, Dick," Mayhew remarked,as he drew alongside the others, "we have our backs full on thewestering sun."

  "Yes," Dick returned, "I did take note of that, and it tells us youwere right; the lake, and the camp of the Frenchmen as well, liestraight to the east."

  "Look up, Roger; what do you see?" demanded the guide.

  "Our old friends, the crows, flying in flocks, all in a straight line,and heading into the sun. Listen to them cawing; but somehow or otherthe sound doesn't 'rile' me as it did before. In fact, I rather liketo hear it, because I can fancy they are saying: 'You are on the righttrack, the camp is only a little way ahead, and good luck to you!'"

  Dick laughed softly.

  "That is only because you are happy now, while before you had a heavyload on your mind. As none of us can understand crow talk we must letit go by. See how they rise in the air when they glimpse us. Wary oldrascals that they are, they scent danger a mile off."

  "And, as we must be getting near the big water now," interposed Mayhew,"it may be just as well that we forego talking except in whispers.There can be no telling about those crafty Blackfeet; some of them maybe roving around, on the lookout for meat, and spy us. Leave it all tothe chief, and let us copy everything they do, so as to show BeaverTail we have handed the whole job over to him."

  After that not a word passed between the three comrades above theirbreath, as they moved along in company with the dusky crew.