Chapter IIIThe Pass
They resumed the journey early the next day, Bright Sun tellingConway that they could reach the range before sunset, and thatthey would find there an easy pass leading a mile or two fartheron to a protected and warm glen.
"That's the place for our camp," said Conway, and he urged thetrain forward.
The traveling was smooth and easy, and they soon left the littleblue lake well behind, passing through a pleasant country wellwooded with elm, ash, birch, cottonwood, and box elder, and thegrass growing high everywhere. They crossed more than one clearlittle stream, a pleasant contrast to the sluggish, muddy creeksof the prairies.
The range, toward which the head of the train was pointing, nowcame nearer. The boys saw its slopes, shaggy with dark pine, andthey knew that beyond it lay other and higher slopes, also darkwith pine. The air was of a wonderful clearness, showing in theeast and beyond the zenith a clear silver tint, while the westwas pure red gold with the setting sun.
Nearer and nearer came the range. The great pines blurred atfirst into an unbroken mass, now stood out singly, showing theirgiant stems. Afar a flash of foamy white appeared, where a brookfell in a foamy cascade. Presently they were within a quarter ofa mile of the range, and its shadow fell over the train. In thewest the sun was low.
"The pass is there, straight ahead," said Bright Sun, pointing tothe steep range.
"I don't see any opening," said Conway.
"It is so narrow and the pines hide it," rejoined Bright Sun,"but it is smooth and easy."
Albert was at the rear of the train. He had chosen to walk inthe later hours of the afternoon. He had become very tired, but,unwilling to confess it even to himself, he did not resume hisplace in the wagon. His weariness made him lag behind.
Albert was deeply sensitive to the impressions of time andplace. The twilight seemed to him to fall suddenly like a greatblack robe. The pines once more blurred into a dark, unbrokenmass. The low sun in the west dipped behind the hills, and therays of red and gold that it left were chill and cold.
"Your brother wishes to see you. He is at the foot of the creekthat we crossed fifteen minutes ago."
It was Bright Sun who spoke.
"Dick wants to see me at the crossing of the creek! Why, Ithought he was ahead of me with the train!" exclaimed Albert.
"No, he is waiting for you. He said that it was important,"repeated Bright Sun.
Albert turned in the darkening twilight and went back on thetrail of the train toward the crossing of the creek. Bright Sunwent to the head of the train, and saw Dick walking there aloneand looking at the hills.
"Your brother is behind at the creek," said Bright Sun. "He isill and wishes you. Hurry! I think it is important!"
"Albert at the creek, ill?" exclaimed Dick in surprise andalarm. "Why, I thought he was here with the train!"
But Bright Sun had gone on ahead. Dick turned back hastily, andran along the trail through the twilight that was now fastmerging into the night.
"Al, ill and left behind!" he exclaimed again and again. "Hemust have overexerted himself!"
His alarm deepened when he saw how fast the darkness wasincreasing. The chill bars of red and gold were gone from thewest. When he looked back he could see the train no more, andheard only the faint sound of the cracking of whips. The trainwas fast disappearing in the pass.
But Dick had become a good woodsman and plainsman. His senseof direction was rarely wrong, and he went straight upon thetrail for the creek. Night had now come but it was not verydark, and presently he saw the flash of water. It was the creek,and a few more steps took him there. A figure rose out of theshadows.
"Al!" he cried. "Have you broken down? Why didn't you get intothe wagon?"
"Dick," replied Albert in a puzzled tone, "there's nothing thematter with me, except that I'm tired. Bright Sun told me thatyou were here waiting for me, and that you had somethingimportant to tell me. I couldn't find you, and now you comerunning."
Dick stopped in amazement.
"Bright Sun said I was waiting here for you, and had somethingimportant to tell you?" exclaimed Dick. "Why, he told me thatyou were ill, and had been left unnoticed at the crossing!"
The two boys stared at each other.
"What does it mean?" they exclaimed together.
From the dark pass before them came a sound which in the distanceresembled the report of a firecracker, followed quickly by two orthree other sounds, and then by many, as if the whole pack hadbeen ignited at once. But both boys knew it was not firecrackers.It was something far more deadly and terrible--a hail of riflebullets. They looked toward the pass and saw there pink and redflashes appearing and reappearing. Shouts, and mingled with thema continuous long, whining cry, a dreadful overnote, came to theirears.
"The train has been attacked!" cried Dick. "It has marchedstraight into an ambush!"
"Indians?" exclaimed Albert, who was trembling violently fromsheer physical and mental excitement.
"It couldn't be anything else!" replied Dick. "This is theircountry! And they must be in great force, too! Listen how thefight grows!"
The volume of the firing increased rapidly, but above it alwaysrose that terrible whining note. The red and pink flashes in thepass danced and multiplied, and the wind brought the faint odorof smoke.
"We must help!" exclaimed Dick. "One can't stand here and seethem all cut down!"
He forgot in his generous heart, at that moment, that he dislikedConway and all his men, and that he and Albert had scarcely afriend in the train. He thought only of doing what he could tobeat back the Indian attack, and Albert felt the same impulse.Both had their rifles--fine, breech-loading, repeating weapons,and with these the two might do much. No one ever parted withhis arms after entering the Indian country.
"Come on, Albert!" exclaimed Dick, and the two ran toward thepass. But before they had gone a hundred yards they stopped asif by the same impulse. That terrible whining note was nowrising higher and higher. It was not merely a war whoop, it hadbecome also a song of triumph. There was a certain silveryquality in the night air, a quality that made for illumination,and Dick thought he saw dusky forms flitting here and there inthe mouth of the pass behind the train. It was only fancy,because he was too far away for such perception, but in this casefancy and truth were the same.
"Hurry, Dick! Let's hurry!" exclaimed the impulsive and generousAlbert. "If we don't, we'll be too late to do anything!"
They started again, running as fast as they could toward thatspace in the dark well where the flashes of red and blue came andwent. Dick was so intent that he did not hear the short, quickgasps of Albert, but he did hear a sudden fall beside him andstopped short. Albert was lying on his back unconscious. Afaint tinge of abnormal red showed on his lips.
"Oh, I forgot! I forgot!" groaned Dick.
Such sudden and violent exertion, allied with the excitement ofthe terrible moment, had overpowered the weak boy. Dick bentdown in grief. At first he thought his brother was dead, but thebreath still came.
Dick did not know what to do. In the pass, under the shadow ofnight, the pines, and the mountain wall, the battle still flaredand crackled, but its volume was dying. Louder rose the fierce,whining yell, and its note was full of ferocity and triumph,while the hoarser cries of the white men became fewer and lower.Now Dick really saw dusky figures leaping about between him andthe train. Something uttering a shrill, unearthly cry of paincrashed heavily through the bushes near him and quickly passedon. It was a wounded horse, running away.
Dick shuddered. Then he lifted Albert in his arms, and he hadthe forethought, even in that moment of excitement and danger, topick up Albert's rifle also. Strong as he naturally was, he hadthen the strength of four, and, turning off at a sharp angle, heran with Albert toward a dense thicket which clustered at thefoot of the mountain wall.
He went a full three hundred yards before he was conscious ofweariness, and he was then at th
e edge of the thicket, whichspread over a wide space. He laid Albert down on some of lastyear's old leaves, and then his quick eyes caught the sight of alittle pool among some rocks. He dipped up the water in his felthat, and after carefully wiping the red stain from his brother'slips, poured the cold fluid upon his face.
Albert revived, sat up, and tried to speak, but Dick pressed hishand upon his mouth.
"Nothing above a whisper, Al," he said softly. "The fight is notyet wholly over, and the Sioux are all about."
"I fainted," said Albert in a whisper. "O Dick, what amiserable, useless fellow I am! But it was the excitement andthe run!"
"It was doubtless a lucky thing that you fainted," Dick whisperedback. "If you hadn't, both of us would probably be dead now."
"It's not all over yet," said Albert.
"No, but it soon will be. Thank God, we've got our rifles. Doyou feel strong enough to walk now, Al? The deeper we get intothe thicket the better it will be for us."
Albert rose slowly to his feet, rocked a little, and then stoodstraight.
Only a few flashes were appearing now in the pass. Dick knew toowell who had been victorious. The battle over, the Sioux wouldpresently be ranging for stragglers and for plunder. He put onearm under Albert, while he carried both of the rifles himself.They walked on through the thicket and the night graduallydarkened. The silvery quality was gone from the air, and the twoboys were glad. It would not be easy to find them now. In thepass both the firing and the long, whining whoop ceased entirely.The flashes of red or blue appeared no more. Silence reignedthere and in the valley. Dick shivered despite himself. For themoment the silence was more terrible than the noise of battle hadbeen. Black, ominous shadows seemed to float down from themountains, clothing all the valley. A chill wind came up, moaningamong the pines. The valley, so warm and beautiful in the day,now inspired Dick with a sudden and violent repulsion. It was ahateful place, the abode of horror and dread. He wished to escapefrom it.
They crossed the thicket and came up against the mountain wall.But it was not quite so steep as it had looked in the distance,and in the faint light Dick saw the trace of a trail leading upthe slope among the pines. It was not the trail of human beings,merely a faint path indicating that wild animals, perhapscougars, had passed that way.
"How are you feeling, Al?" he asked, repeating his anxious query.
"Better. My strength has come back," replied his brother.
"Then we'll go up the mountain. We must get as far away as wecan from those fiends, the Sioux. Thank God, Al, we're sparedtogether!"
Each boy felt a moment of devout thankfulness. They had notfallen, and they were there together! Each also thought of thesingular message that Bright Sun had given to them, but neitherspoke of it.
They climbed for more than half an hour in silence, save for anoccasional whisper. The bushes helped Albert greatly. He pulledhimself along by means of them, and now and then the two boysstopped that he might rest. He was still excited under theinfluence of the night, the distant battle, and their peril, andhe breathed in short gasps, but did not faint again. Dick thrusthis arm at intervals under his brother's and helped him in theascent.
After climbing a quarter of an hour, they stopped longer thanusual and looked down at the pass, which Dick reckoned should bealmost beneath them. They heard the faint sound of a shot, saw atiny beam of red appear, then disappear, and after that there wasonly silence and blank darkness.
"It's all over now," whispered Albert, and it was a whisper notof caution, but of awe.
"Yes, it's all over," Dick said in the same tone. "It's likely,Al, that you and I alone out of all that train are alive. Conwayand all the others are gone."
"Except Bright Sun," said Albert.
The two boys looked at each other again, but said nothing. Theythen resumed their climbing, finding it easier this time. Theyreached a height at which the undergrowth ceased, but the pines,growing almost in ordered rows, stretched onward and upward.
Dick sent occasional glances toward the pass, but the darknessthere remained unbroken. Every time he turned his eyes that wayhe seemed to be looking into a black well of terror.
Both Dick and Albert, after the first hour of ascent, had afeeling of complete safety. The Sioux, occupied with their greatambush and victory, would not know there had been two stragglersbehind the train, and even had they known, to search for themamong the dense forests of distant mountain slopes would be afutile task. Dick's mind turned instead to the needs of theirsituation, and he began to appreciate the full danger andhardship of it.
Albert and he were right in feeling thankful that they werespared together, although they were alone in the wilderness inevery sense of the word. It was hundreds of miles north, east,south, and west to the habitations of white men. Before them,fold on fold, lay unknown mountains, over which only hostilesavages roamed. Both he and Albert had good rifles and beltsfull of cartridges, but that was all. It was a situation todaunt the most fearless heart, and the shiver that suddenly ranover Dick did not come from the cold of the night.
They took a long rest in a little clump of high pines and saw acold, clear moon come out in the pale sky. They felt the awfulsense of desolation and loneliness, for it seemed to them thatthe moon was looking down on an uninhabited world in which onlythey were left. They heard presently little rustlings in thegrass, and thought at first it was another ambush, though theyknew upon second thought that it was wild creatures moving on themountain side.
"Come, Al," said Dick. "Another half hour will put us on top ofthe ridge, and then I think it will be safe for us to stop."
"I hope they'll be keeping a good room for us at the hotel upthere," said Albert wanly.
Dick tried to laugh, but it was a poor imitation and he gave itup.
"We may find some sort of a sheltered nook," he said hopefully.
Dick had become conscious that it was cold, since the fever inhis blood was dying down. Whenever they stopped and their bodiesrelaxed, they suffered from chill. He was deeply worried aboutAlbert, who was in no condition to endure exposure on a bleakmountain, and wished now for the buffalo robe they had regardedas such a fine trophy.
They reached the crest of the ridge in a half hour, as Dick hadexpected, and looking northward in the moonlight saw the dimoutlines of other ridges and peaks in a vast, intricate maze. Anarrow, wooded valley seemed to occupy the space between theridge on which they stood and the next one parallel to it to thenorthward.
"It ought to be a good place down there to hide and rest," saidAlbert.
"I think you're right," said Dick, "and we'll go down the slopepart of the way before we camp for the night."
They found the descent easy. It was still open forest, mostlypine with a sprinkling of ash and oak, and it was warmer on thenorthern side, the winds having but little sweep there.
The moon became brighter, but it remained cold and pitiless,recking nothing of the tragedy in the pass. It gave Dick a chillto look at it. But he spent most of the time watching among thetrees for some sheltered spot that Nature had made. It was overan hour before he found it, a hollow among rocks, with dwarfpines clustering thickly at the sides and in front. It was so wellhidden that he would have missed it had he not been looking forjust such a happy alcove, and at first he was quite sure that somewild animal must be using it as a den.
He poked in the barrel of his rifle, but nothing flew out, andthen, pulling back the pine boughs, he saw no signs of a previousoccupation.
"It's just waiting for us, Al, old fellow," he said gayly, "butnothing of this kind is so good that it can't be made better.Look at all those dead leaves over there under the oaks. Beendrying ever since last year and full of warmth."
They raked the dead leaves into the nook, covering the floor ofit thickly, and piling them up on the sides as high as they wouldstay, and then they lay down inside, letting the pine boughs infront fall back into place. It was really warm and cozy in therefor t
wo boys who had been living out of doors for weeks, and Dickdrew a deep, long breath of content.
"Suppose a panther should come snooping along," said Albert, "andthink this the proper place for his bed and board?"
"He'd never come in, don't you fear. He'd smell us long beforehe got here, and then strike out in the other direction."
Albert was silent quite a while, and as he made no noise, Dickthought he was asleep. But Albert spoke at last, though he spokelow and his tone was very solemn.
"Dick," he said, "we've really got a lot to be thankful for. Youknow that."
"I certainly do," said Dick with emphasis. "Now you go to sleep,Al."
Albert was silent again, and presently his breathing became verysteady and regular. Dick touched him and saw that he was fastasleep. Then the older boy took off his coat and carefullyspread it on the younger, after which he raked a great lot of thedry leaves over himself, and soon he, too, was sound asleep.
Dick awoke far in the night and stirred in his bed of leaves.But the movement caused him a little pain, and he wondered dimly,because he had not yet fully come through the gates of sleep, andhe did not remember where he was or what had happened. A tinyshaft of pale light fell on his forehead, and he looked up throughpine branches. It was the moon that sent the beam down upon him,but he could see nothing else. He stirred again and the littlepain returned. Then all of it came back to him.
Dick reached out his hand and touched Albert. His brother wassleeping soundly, and he was still warm, the coat havingprotected him. But Dick was cold, despite the pines, the rocks,and the leaves. It was the cold that had caused the slight painin his joints when he moved, but he rose softly lest he wakeAlbert, and slipped outside, standing in a clear space betweenthe pines.
The late moon was of uncommon brilliancy. It seemed a moltenmass of burnished silver, and its light fell over forest andvalley, range and peak. The trees on the slopes stood out likelacework, but far down in the valley the light seemed to shimmerlike waves on a sea of silver mist. It was all inexpressiblycold, and of a loneliness that was uncanny. Nothing stirred, nota twig, not a blade of grass. It seemed to Dick that if even aleaf fell on the far side of the mountain he could hear it. Itwas a great, primeval world, voiceless and unpeopled, brooding ina dread and mystic silence.
Dick shivered. He had shivered often that night, but now thechill went to the marrow. It was the chill the first man musthave felt when he was driven from the garden and faced theglobe-girdling forest. He came back to the rock covert andleaned over until he could hear his brother breathing beneaththe pine boughs. Then he felt the surge of relief, ofcompanionship--after all, he was not alone in thewilderness!--and returned to the clear space between thepines. There he walked up and down briskly, swinging his arms,exercising all his limbs, until the circulation was fullyrestored and he was warm again.
Dick felt the immensity of the problem that lay before him--onethat he alone must solve if it were to be solved at all. He andAlbert had escaped the massacre, but how were they to live inthat wilderness of mountains? It was not alone the question offood. How were they to save themselves from death by exposure?Those twinges in his knees had been warning signs. Oddly enough,his mind now fastened upon one thing. He was longing for thelost buffalo robe, his first great prize. It had been so largeand so warm, and the fur was so soft. It would cover both Albertand himself, and keep them warm on the coldest night. If theyonly had it now! He thought more of that robe just then than hedid of the food that they would need in the morning. Cast forthupon a primeval world, this first want occupied his mind to theexclusion of all others.
He returned to the rocky alcove presently, and lay down again.He was too young and too healthy to remain awake long, despitethe full measure of their situation, and soon he slept soundlyonce more. He was first to awake in the morning, and the beamthat struck upon his forehead was golden instead of silver. It waswarm, too, and cheerful, and as Dick parted the branches andlooked out, he saw that the sun was riding high. It had beendaylight a full three hours at least, but it did not matter. Timewas perhaps the only commodity of which he and Albert nowhad enough and to spare.
He took his coat off Albert and put it on himself, lest Albertmight suspect, and then began to sing purposely, with loudnessand levity, an old farm rhyme that had been familiar to the boysof his vicinity:
"Wake up, Jake, the day is breaking.The old cow died, her tail shaking."
Albert sat up, rubbed his eyes, and stared at Dick and thewilderness.
"Now look at him!" cried Dick. "He thinks he's been called tooearly. He thinks he'd like to sleep eight or ten hours longer!Get up, little boy! Yes, it's Christmas morning! Come and seewhat good old Santa has put in your stocking!"
Albert yawned again and laughed. Really, Dick was such acheerful, funny fellow that he always kept one in good spirits.Good old Dick!
"Old Santa filled our stockings, all right," continued Dick, "buthe was so busy cramming 'em full of great forests and magnificentscenery that he forgot to leave any breakfast for us, and I'mafraid we'll have to hustle for it."
They started down the mountain slope, and presently they came toa swift little brook, in which they bathed their faces, removing,at the same time, fragments of twigs and dried leaves from theirhair.
"That was fine and refreshing," said Dick, "but it doesn't fillmy stomach. Al, I could bite a tenpenny nail in half and digestboth pieces, too."
"I don't care for nails," said Albert, "but I think I could gnawdown a good-sized sapling. Hold me, Dick, or I'll be devouring apine tree."
Both laughed, and put as good a face on it as they could, butthey were frightfully hungry, nevertheless. But they had grownup on farms, and they knew that the woods must contain food ofsome kind or other. They began a search, and after a while theyfound wild plums, now ripe, which they ate freely. They thenfelt stronger and better, but, after all, it was a light diet andthey must obtain food of more sustenance.
"There are deer, of course, in this valley," said Dick, fingeringhis rifle, "and sooner or later we'll get a shot at one of them,but it may be days, and--Al--I've got another plan."
"What is it?"
"You know, Al, that I can travel pretty fast anywhere. Now thoseSioux, after cutting down the train and wiping out all thepeople, would naturally go away. They'd load themselves up withspoil and scoot. But a lot, scattered here and there, would beleft behind. Some of the teams would run away in all the shootingand shouting. And, Al, you and I need those things! We must havethem if we are going to live, and we both want to live!"
"Do you mean, Dick, that you're going back down there in thatawful pass?"
"That's just about what I had on my mind," replied Dickcheerfully; "and now I've got it off, I feel better."
"But you can never get back alive, Dick!" exclaimed Albert, hiseyes widening in horror at the memory of what they had seen andheard the night before.
"Get back alive? Why, of course I will," responded Dick. "AndI'll do more than that, too. You'll see me come galloping up themountain, bearing hogsheads and barrels of provisions. But,seriously, Al, it must be done. If I don't go, we'll starve todeath."
"Then I'm going, too."
"No, Al, old boy, you're not strong enough just yet, though youwill be soon. There are certainly no Sioux in this littlevalley, and it would be well if you were to go back up the slopeand stay in the pine shelter. It's likely that I'll be gonenearly all day, but don't be worried. You'll have one of therifles with you, and you know how to use it."
Albert had a clear and penetrating mind, and he saw the truth ofDick's words. They went back up the slope, where he crept withinthe pine shelter and lay down on the leaves, while Dick wentalone on his mission.
The Last of the Chiefs: A Story of the Great Sioux War Page 3