Chapter XIVPrisoners
It gave both Dick and Albert a severe wrench to leave theirbeautiful valley. They had lived in it now nearly two years, andit had brought strength and abounding life to Albert, infinitevariety, content, and gratitude to Dick, and what seemed afortune--their furs--to both. It was a beautiful valley, inwhich Nature had done for them many strange and wonderful things,and they loved it, the splendid lake, the grassy levels, therushing streams, the noble groves, and the great mountains allabout.
"I'd like to live here, Dick," said Albert, "for some years,anyway. After we take out our furs and sell 'em, we can comeback and use it as a base for more trapping."
"If the Indians will let up," said Dick.
"Do you think we'll meet 'em?"
"I don't know, but I believe the plains are alive with hostileSioux."
But Albert could not foresee any trouble. He was too young, tosanguine, too full now of the joy of life to think of difficulties.
They chose their weapons for the march with great care, eachtaking a repeating rifle, a revolver, a hunting knife, and ahatchet, the latter chiefly for camping purposes. They alsodivided equally among themselves what was left of the ballcartridges, and each took his sunglass and half of the remainingmatches. The extra weapons, including the shotguns and shotcartridges, they hid with their furs. They also put in the cavesmany more of their most valuable possessions, especially thetools and remnants of medical supplies. They left everythingelse in the houses, just as they were when they were using them,except the bark hut, from which they took away all furnishings,as it was too light to resist the invasion of a large wild beastlike a grizzly bear. But they fastened up Castle Howard and theAnnex so securely that no wandering beast could possibly breakin. They sunk their canoes in shallow water among reeds, andthen, when each had provided himself with a large supply ofjerked buffalo and deer meat and a skin water bag, they wereready to depart.
"We may find our houses and what is in them all right when wecome back, or we may not," said Dick.
"But we take the chance," said Albert cheerfully.
Early on a spring morning they started down the valley by thesame way in which they had first entered it. They walked alongin silence for some minutes, and then, as if by the same impulse,the two turned and looked back. There was their house, which hadsheltered them so snugly and so safely for so long, almost hiddennow in the foliage of the new spring. There was a bit ofmoisture in the eyes of Albert, the younger and more sentimental.
"Good-by," he said, waving his hand. "I've found life here."
Dick said nothing, and they turned into the main valley. Theywalked with long and springy steps, left the valley behind them,and began to climb the slopes. Presently the valley itselfbecame invisible, the mountains seeming to close in and blot itout.
"A stranger would have to blunder on it to find it," said Dick.
"I hope no one will make any such blunder," said Albert.
The passage over the mountains was easy, the weather continuingfavorable, and on another sunshiny morning they reached theplains, which flowed out boundlessly before them. These, too,were touched with green, but the boys were perplexed. The spacewas so vast, and it was all so much alike, that it did not lookas if they could ever arrive anywhere.
"I think we'd better make for Cheyenne in Wyoming Territory,"said Dick.
"But we don't know how far away it is, nor in what direction,"said Albert.
"No; but if we keep on going we're bound to get somewhere. We'vegot lots of time before us, and we'll take it easy."
They had filled their skin water bags, made in the winter, at thelast spring, and they set out at a moderate pace over the plain.Dick had thought once of visiting again the scene of the train'sdestruction in the pass, but Albert opposed it.
"No," he said, "I don't want to see that place."
This journey, they knew not whither, continued easy and pleasantthroughout the day. The grass was growing fast on the plains,and all the little steams that wound now and then between theswells were full of water, and, although they still carried thefilled water bags, Dick inferred that they were not likely tosuffer from thirst. Late in the afternoon they saw a small herdof antelope and a lone buffalo grazing at a considerabledistance, and Dick drew the second and comforting inference thatgame would prove to be abundant. He was so pleased with theseinferences that he stated them to Albert, who promptly drew athird.
"Wouldn't the presence of buffalo and antelope indicate thatthere are not many Indians hereabouts?" he asked.
"It looks likely," replied Dick.
They continued southward until twilight came, when they built ina hollow a fire of buffalo chips, which were abundant all overthe plain, and watched their friendly mountains sink away in thedark.
"Gives me a sort of homesick feeling," said Albert. "They'vebeen good mountains to us. Shelter and home are there, but outhere I feel as if I were stripped to the wind."
"That describes it," said Dick.
They did not keep any watch, but put out their fire and sleptsnugly in their blankets. They were awakened in the morning bythe whine of a coyote that did not dare to come too near, andresumed their leisurely march, to continue in this manner forseveral days, meeting no human being either white or red.
They saw the mountains sink behind the sky line and then theyfelt entirely without a rudder. There was nothing to go by nowexcept the sun, but they kept to their southern course. Theywere not greatly troubled. They found plenty of game, as Dickhad surmised, and killed an antelope and a fat young buffalo cow.
"We may travel a long journey, Al," said Dick with somesatisfaction, "but it's not hard on us. It's more like loafingalong on an easy holiday."
On the fifth day they ran into a large buffalo herd, but did notmolest any of its members, as they did not need fresh meat.
"Seems to me," said Dick, "that Sioux would be after this herd ifthey weren't busy elsewhere. It looks like more proof that theSioux are on the warpath and are to the eastward of us, fightingour own people."
"The Sioux are a great and warlike tribe, are they not?" askedAlbert.
"The greatest and most warlike west of the Mississippi," repliedDick. "I understand that they are really a group of closelyrelated tribes and can put thousands of warriors in the field."
"Bright Sun, I suppose, is with them?"
"Yes, I suppose so. He is an Indian, a Sioux, no matter if hewas at white schools and for years with white people. He mustfeel for his own, just as you and I, Al, feel for our own race."
They wandered three or four more days across the plains, and werestill without sign of white man or red. They experienced nohardship. Water was plentiful. Game was to be had for thestalking and life, had they been hunting or exploring, would havebeen pleasant; but both felt a sense of disappointment--theynever came to anything. The expanse of plains was boundless, theloneliness became overpowering. They had not the remotest ideawhether they were traveling toward any white settlement. Humanlife seemed to shun them.
"Dick," said Albert one day, "do you remember the story of theFlying Dutchman, how he kept trying for years to round the Capeof Storms, and couldn't do it? I wonder if some such penalty isput on us, and if so, what for?"
The thought lodged in the minds of both. Oppressed by long andfruitless wanderings, they began to have a superstition that theywere to continue them forever. They knew that it was unreasonable,but it clung, nevertheless. There were the rolling plains, thehigh, brassy sky, and the clear line of the horizon on all sides,with nothing that savored of human life between.
They had hoped for an emigrant train, or a wandering band ofhunters, or possibly a troop of cavalry, but days passed and theymet none. Still the same high, brassy sky, still the sameunbroken horizons. The plains increased in beauty. There was afine, delicate shade of green on the buffalo grass, and wonderfullittle flowers peeped shy heads just above the earth, but Dickand Albert took little notice of either. T
hey had sunk into anuncommon depression. The terrible superstition that they were towander forever was strengthening its hold upon them, despiteevery effort of will and reason. In the hope of better successthey changed their course two or three times, continuing in eachcase several days in that direction before the next change wasmade.
"We've traveled around so much now," said Albert despondently,"that we couldn't go back to our mountains if we wanted to doit. We don't know any longer in what direction they lie."
"That's so," said Dick, with equal despondency showing in histone.
His comment was brief, because they talked but little now, andevery day were talking less. Their spirits were affected toomuch to permit any excess of words. But they came finally torougher, much more broken country, and they saw a line of treeson the crest of hills just under the sunset horizon. The sight,the break in the monotony, the cheerful trees made them lift uptheir drooping heads.
"Well, at any rate, here's something new," said Dick. "Let'sconsider it an omen of good luck, Al."
They reached the slope, a long one, with many depressions andhollows, containing thick groves of large trees, the heightsbeyond being crowned with trees of much taller growth. Theywould have gone to the summit, but they were tired with a longday's tramp and they had not yet fully aroused themselves fromthe lethargy that had overtaken them in their weary wanderings.
"Night's coming," said Albert, "so let's take to that hollow overthere with the scrub ash in it."
"All right," said Dick. "Suits me."
It was a cozy little hollow, deeply shaded by the ash trees, buttoo rocky to be damp, and they did not take the trouble to lighta fire. They had been living for some time on fresh buffalo andantelope, and had saved their jerked meat, on which they now drewfor supper.
It was now quite dark, and each, throwing his blanket lightlyaround his shoulders, propped himself in a comfortable position.Then, for the first time in days, they began to talk in the easy,idle fashion of those who feel some degree of contentment, achange made merely by the difference in scene, the presence ofhills, trees, and rocks after the monotonous world of the plains.
"We'll explore that country to-morrow," said Dick, nodding hishead toward the crest of the hills. "Must be something overthere, a river, a lake, and maybe trappers."
"Hope it won't make me homesick again for our valley," saidAlbert sleepily. "I've been thinking too much of it, anyway, inthe last few days. Dick, wasn't that the most beautiful lake ofours that you ever saw? Did you ever see another house as snugas Castle Howard? And how about the Annex and the SuburbanVilla? And all those beautiful streams that came jumping downbetween the mountains?"
"If you don't shut up, Al," said Dick, "I'll thrash you with thisgood handy stick that I've found here."
"All right," replied Albert, laughing; "I didn't mean to harrowup your feelings any more than I did my own."
Albert was tired, and the measure of content that he now felt wassoothing. Hence, his drowsiness increased, and in ten minutes hewent comfortably to sleep. Dick's eyes were yet open, and hefelt within himself such new supplies of energy and strength thathe resolved to explore a little. The task that had seemed sohard two or three hours before was quite easy now. Albert wouldremain sleeping safely where he was, and, acting promptly, Dickleft the hollow, rifle on shoulder.
It was an easy slope, but a long one. As he ascended, the treesgrew more thickly and near the ascent were comparatively freefrom undergrowth. Just over the hill shone a magnificent fullmoon, touching the crest with a line of molten silver.
Dick soon reached the summit and looked down the far slope into avalley three or four hundred yards deep. The moon shed its fullglory into the valley and filled it with rays of light.
The valley was at least two miles wide, and down its centerflowed a fine young river, which Dick could see here and there instretches, while the rest was hidden by forest. In fact, thewhole valley seemed to be well clothed with mountain forest,except in one wide space where Dick's gaze remained after it hadalighted once.
Here was human life, and plenty of it. He looked down upon acircle of at least two hundred lodges, tent-shaped structures ofsaplings covered with bark, and he had heard quite enough aboutsuch things to know these were the winter homes of the Sioux.The moonlight was so clear and his position so good that he wasable to see figures moving about the lodges.
The sight thrilled Dick. Here he had truly come upon human life,but not the kind he wished to see. But it was vastly interesting,and he sought a closer look. His daring told him to go down theslope toward them, and he obeyed. The descent was not difficult,and there was cover in abundance--pines, ash, and oak.
As he was very careful, taking time not to break a twig or set astone rolling, and stopping at intervals to look and listen, hewas a half hour in reaching the valley, where, through the trees,he saw the Indian village. He felt that he was rash, but wishingto see, he crept closer, the cover still holding good. He was,in a way, fascinated by what he saw. It had the quality of adream, and its very unreality made him think less of the danger.But he really did not know how expert he had become as awoodsman and trailer through his long training as a trapper,where delicacy of movement and craft were required.
He believed that the Indians, in such a secure location, wouldnot be stirring beyond the village at this late hour, and he hadlittle fear of anything except the sharp-nosed dogs that arealways prowling about an Indian village. He was within threehundred yards of the lodges when he heard the faint sound ofvoices and footsteps. He instantly lay down among the bushes,but raised himself a little on his elbow in order to see.
Three Indians were walking slowly along a woodland path towardthe village, and the presence of the path indicated the villagehad been here for many months, perhaps was permanent. TheIndians were talking very earnestly and they made gestures. Oneraised his voice a little and turned toward one of hiscompanions, as if he would emphasize his words. Then Dick sawhis face clearly, and drew a long breath of surprise.
It was Bright Sun, but a Bright Sun greatly changed. He waswholly in native attire--moccasins, leggings, and a beautifulblue blanket draped about his shoulders. A row of eagle feathersadorned his long black hair, but it was the look and manner ofthe man that had so much significance. He towered above theother Indians, who were men of no mean height; but it was not hisheight either, it was his face, the fire of his eyes, the proudeagle beak which the Sioux had not less than the Roman, and theswift glance of command that could not be denied. Here was agreat chief, a leader of men, and Dick was ready to admit it.
He could easily have shot Bright Sun dead as he passed, but hedid not dream of doing such a thing. Yet Bright Sun, whileseeming to play the part of a friend, had deliberately led thewagon train into a fatal ambush--of that Dick had no doubt. Hefelt, moreover, that Bright Sun was destined to cause great woeto the white people, his own people, but he could not fire; norwould he have fired even if the deed had been without danger tohimself.
Dick, instead, gave Bright Sun a reluctant admiration. He lookedwell enough as the guide in white men's clothes, but in his ownnative dress he looked like one to be served, not to serve. Thethree paused for a full two minutes exactly opposite Dick, and hecould have reached out and touched them with the barrel of hisrifle; but they were thinking little of the presence of an enemy.Dick judged by the emphasis of their talk that it was on a matterof some great moment, and he saw all three of them point at timestoward the east.
"It's surely war," he thought, "and our army if somewhere offthere in the east."
Dick saw that Bright Sun remained the dominating figurethroughout the discussion. Its whole effect was that of BrightSun talking and the others listening. He seemed to communicatehis fire and enthusiasm to his comrades, and soon they nodded avigorous assent. Then the three walked silently away toward thevillage.
Dick rose from his covert, cast a single glance at the directionin which the three chiefs had disappe
ared, and then began toretrace his own steps. It was his purpose to arouse Albert andflee at once to a less dangerous region. But the fate of Dickand his brother rested at that moment with a mean, mangy, mongrelcur, such as have always been a part of Indian villages, a curthat had wandered farther from the village than usual that nightupon some unknown errand.
Dick had gone about thirty yards when he became conscious of alight, almost faint, pattering sound behind him. He steppedswiftly into the heaviest shadow of trees and sought to see whatpursued. He thought at first it was some base-born wolf of thehumblest tribe, but, when he looked longer, he knew that it wasone of the meanest of mean curs, a hideous, little yellowishanimal, sneaking in his movements, a dog that one would gladlykick out of his way.
Dick felt considerable contempt for himself because he had beenalarmed over such a miserable little beast, and resumed his swiftwalk. Thirty yards farther he threw a glance over his shoulder,and there was the wretched cur still following. Dick did notlike it, considering it an insult to himself to be trailed byanything so ugly and insignificant. He picked up a stone, buthesitated a moment, and then put it down again. If he threw thestone the dog might bark or howl, and that was the last thingthat he wanted. Already the cur, mean and miserable as helooked, had won a victory over him.
Dick turned into a course that he would not have taken otherwise,thinking to shake off his pursuer, but at the next open space hesaw him still following, his malignant red eyes fixed upon theboy. The cur would not have weighed twenty cowardly pounds, buthe became a horrible obsession to Dick. He picked up a stoneagain, put it down again, and for a mad instant seriouslyconsidered the question of shooting him.
The cur seemed to become alarmed at the second threat, and brokesuddenly into a sharp, snarling, yapping bark, much like that ofa coyote. It was terribly loud in the still night, and colddread assailed Dick in every nerve. He picked up the stone thathe had dropped, and this time he threw it.
"You brute!" he exclaimed, as the stone whizzed by the cur's ear.
The cur returned the compliment of names with compounded manytimes over. His snarling bark became almost continuous, andalthough he did not come any nearer, he showed sharp white teeth.Dick paused in doubt, but when, from a point nearer the village,he heard a bark in reply, then another, and then a dozen, he ranwith all speed up the slope. He knew without looking back thatthe cur was following, and it made him feel cold again.
Certainly Dick had good cause to run. All the world was up andlistening now, and most of it was making a noise, too. He hearda tumult of barking, growling, and snapping toward the village,and then above it a long, mournful cry that ended in an ominousnote. Dick knew that it was a Sioux war whoop, and that themean, miserable little cur had done his work. The village wouldbe at his heels. Seized with an unreasoning passion, he whirledabout and shot the cur dead. It was a mad act, and he instantlyrepented it. Never had there been another rifle shot so loud.It crashed like the report of a cannon. Mountain and valley gaveit back in a multitude of echoes, and on the last dying echocame, not a single war whoop, but the shout of many, the fierce,insistent, falsetto yell that has sounded the doom of many aborderer.
Dick shuddered. He had been pursued once before by a singleman, but he was not afraid of a lone warrior. Now a scorewould be at his heels. He might shake them off in the dark, butthe dogs would keep the scent, and his chief object was to go fast.He ran up the slope at his utmost speed for a hundred yards ormore, and then remembering in time to nurse his strength, heslackened his footsteps.
He had thought of turning the pursuit away from the hollow inwhich Albert lay, but now that the alarm was out they would findhim, anyway, and it was best for the two to stand or falltogether. Hence, he went straight for the hollow.
It was bitter work running up a slope, but his two years of lifein the open were a great help to him now. The strong heart andthe powerful lungs responded nobly to the call. He ran lightly,holding his rifle in the hollow of his arm, ready for use if needbe, and he watch warily lest he make an incautious footstep andfall. The moonlight was still full and clear, but when he tookan occasional hurried glance backward he could not yet see hispursuers. He heard, now and then, however, the barking of a dogor the cry of a warrior.
Dick reached the crest of the hill, and there for an instant ortwo his figure stood, under the pines, a black silhouette againstthe moonlight. Four or five shots were fired at the livingtarget. One bullet whizzed so near that it seemed to Dick toscorch his face.
He had gathered fresh strength, and that hot bullet gave a newimpetus also. He ran down the slope at a great speed now, and hehad calculated craftily. He could descend nearly twice as fastas they could ascend, and while they were reaching the crest hewould put a wide gap between them.
He kept well in the shadow now as he made with long leapsstraight toward the hollow, and he hoped with every heart beatthat Albert, aroused by the shots, would be awake and ready."Albert!" he cried, when he was within twenty feet of their camp,and his hope was rewarded. Albert was up, rifle in hand, crying:
"What is it, Dick?"
"The Sioux!" exclaimed Dick. "They're not far away! You heardthe shots! Come!"
He turned off at an angle and ran in a parallel line along theslope, Albert by his side. He wished to keep to the forests andthickets, knowing they would have little chance of escape on theplain. As they ran he told Albert, in short, choppy sentences,what had happened.
"I don't hear anything," said Albert, after ten minutes. "Maybethey've lost us."
"No such good luck! Those curs of theirs would lead them. No,Al, we've got to keep straight on as long as we can!"
Albert stumbled on a rock, but, quickly recovering himself, putgreater speed in every jump, when he heard the Indian shoutbehind him.
"We've got to shoot their dogs," said Dick. "We'll have no otherchance to shake them off."
"If we get a chance," replied Albert.
But they did not see any chance just yet. They heard theoccasional howl of a cur, but both curs and Indians remainedinvisible. Yet Dick felt that the pursuers were gaining. Theywere numerous, and they could spread. Every time he and Albertdiverged from a straight line--and they could not help doing sonow and then--some portion of the pursuing body came nearer. Itwas the advantage that the many had over the few.
Dick prayed for darkness, a shading of the moon, but it did notcome, and five minutes later he saw the yellow form of a curemerge into an open space. He took a shot at it and heard ahowl. He did not know whether he had killed the dog or not, buthe hoped he had succeeded. The shot brought forth a cry to theirright, and then another to the left. It was obvious that theSioux, besides being behind them, were also on either side ofthem. They were gasping, too, from their long run, and knew thatthey could not continue much farther.
"We can't shake them off, Al," said Dick, "and we'll have tofight. This is as good a place as any other."
They dropped down into a rocky hollow, a depression not morethan a foot deep, and lay on their faces, gasping for breath.Despite the deadly danger Dick felt a certain relief that hedid not have to run any more--there comes a time when amoment's physical rest will overweigh any amount of mortalperil.
"If they've surrounded us, they're very quiet about it," saidAlbert, when the fresh air had flowed back into his lungs. "Idon't see or hear anything at all."
"At least we don't hear those confounded dogs any more," saidDick. "Maybe there was only one pursuing us, and that shot ofmine got him. The howls of the cur upset my nerves more than theshouts of the Sioux."
"Maybe so," said Albert.
Then they were both quite still. The moonlight was silveryclear, and they could see pines, oaks, and cedars waving in agentle wind, but they saw nothing else. Yet Dick was well awarethat the Sioux had not abandoned the chase; they knew well wherethe boys lay, and were all about them in the woods.
"Keep close, Albert," he said. "Indians are sly, and the Si
ouxare the slyest of them all. They're only waiting until one of uspops up his head, thinking they're gone."
Albert took Dick's advice, but so long a time passed without signfrom the Sioux that he began to believe that, in some mysteriousmanner, they had evaded the savages. The belief had grown almostinto a certainty, when there was a flash and a report from apoint higher up the slope. Albert felt something hot andstinging in his face. But it was only a tiny fragment of rockchipped off by the bullet as it passed.
Both Dick and Albert lay closer, as if they would pressthemselves into the earth, and soon two or three more shots werefired. All came from points higher up the slope, and none hit aliving target, though they struck unpleasantly close.
"I wish I could see something," exclaimed Albert impatiently."It's not pleasant to be shot at and to get no shot in return."
Dick did not answer. He was watching a point among some scrubpines higher up the slope, where the boughs seemed to him to bewaving too much for the slight wind. Looking intently, hethought he saw a patch of brown through the evergreen, and hefired at it. A faint cry followed the shot, and Dick felt astrange satisfaction; they were hunting him--well, he had givena blow in return.
Silence settled down again after Dick's shot. The boys layperfectly still, although they could hear each other'sbreathing. The silvery moonlight seemed to grow fuller andclearer all the time. It flooded the whole slope. Boughs andtwigs were sheathed in it. Apparently, the moon looked down upona scene that was all peace and without the presence of a humanbeing.
"Do you think they'll rush us?" whispered Albert.
"No," replied Dick. "I've always heard that the Indian takes aslittle risk as he possibly can."
They waited a little longer, and then came a flare of rifle shotsfrom a point farther up the slope. Brown forms appeared faintly,and Dick and Albert, intent and eager, began to fire in reply.Bullets sang by their ears and clipped the stones around them,but their blood rose the higher and they fired faster and faster.
"We'll drive 'em back!" exclaimed Dick.
They did not hear the rapid patter of soft, light footstepscoming from another direction, until a half dozen Sioux were uponthem. Then the firing in front ceased abruptly, and Dick andAlbert whirled to meet their new foes.
It was too late. Dick saw Albert struggling in the grasp of twobig warriors, and then saw and heard nothing more. Hehad received a heavy blow on the head from the butt of a rifleand became unconscious.
The Last of the Chiefs: A Story of the Great Sioux War Page 14