At the sight of them the cowboys pulled out their rifles, but the Indians showed no hostility. Only one advanced, a tall oldish man, gaily bedecked with eagle plumes, and bearing on his shield the presentment of a black bear. His right hand was raised, palm outwards, in token that he came on a peaceful mission. Despite the cruel, crafty expression on his face he was an imposing figure. He rode straight to the foreman—having doubtless observed him giving orders—uttered a guttural “How!” and began to speak. Jeff listened for a moment and shook his head.
“No savvy,” he said, and beckoned to Sudden. “Mebbe yu can find out what he’s after.”
The redskin repeated his statement and the cowboy was able to gather the gist of it.
“He says he is Black Bear, a great chief, that this is Commanche country, an’ we got no right to take cattle through it,” he translated. “He wants tribute in cows.”
The foreman’s face grew bleak. “How many?” he asked. Sudden put the question and the Indian, resting his lance across his knees, pointed first to himself, then to Sudden, and raised both hands. The cowboy explained:
“Redskins reckon thisaway: one is a finger, five a hand, ten, two hands, twenty, a man. Yu can figure it yoreself.”
Jeff, who had been watching the chief’s movements closely, did so, and swore. “Give him fifty steers?” he snarled. “Tell him to go to hell.”
“Don’t know enough o’ the lingo,” Sudden said. “I’ll offer him five—Injuns is like Jews, allus ask more’n they expect to get.”
Black Bear listened gravely to the white man’s explanation, haltingly told in a mixture of Indian tongues, and ending with the raising of one hand only. Then he drew himself up haughtily, flashed a meaning glance at his followers, and fixed his savage eyes on this paleface who had insulted him with so paltry an offer. Sudden met the stare with one equally steady. For one long moment the black eyes battled with the blue and then the redskin wrenched his pony round and trotted back to his band. The cowboys, who had allowed the herd to drift towards the other end of the valley, waited, rifles ready, for the expected charge. They saw Black Bear rejoin his men and face about but he gave no signal.
“What’s the game, Jim?” the foreman asked, anxiously scanning the line of silent savages.
“Damned if I know,” Sudden replied. “Looks like they’re waitin’ for somethin’.”
The crash of a gun, followed by the fainter report of a pistol, came from where the camp lay and instantly a rider whirled his mount and spurred in that direction; it was Sandy. The Indians were gesticulating, waving their weapons, and reining in their eager ponies. Sudden turned to the foreman.
“They’re attackin’ the camp—that’s why these devils were holdin’ back. I’ll follow Sandy; yu can handle this bunch.”
A pressure of his knees and he was off, threading his way through the scared cattle. He had covered but a short distance when a burst of yells, mingled with the spiteful crack of exploding powder, told him that the enemy had charged.
Sandy reached ‘the camping-ground just in time to see a tall, lithe warrior, with a limp form draped over his shoulder, disappear in the brush, and oblivious to everything else, dashed in pursuit. He knew that his friend was just behind him, for he had seen the big black pounding down the valley. The trees hampered him and he arrived in the open only to see the abductor sling his burden like a sack of meal across the backof a waiting pony, spring up behind it, and dart away. The cowboy dared not risk a shot lest he hit the girl; he could but try to run the redskin down.
Sudden arrived on the heels of Sandy, saw him vanish, and turned his attention to what was happening. A dead Indian—his head half blown away—sprawled in his path, and another lay huddled by the wagon, from which a steady string of curses issued. Near the fire, Peg-leg was outstretched, a smudge of blood on his face, and over his body Aunt Judy was struggling desperately with a squat, bow-legged savage, whose paint-smeared features she had further decorated with several vivid red streaks. Fighting like a wildcat, and spitting oaths of which a cowboy might well have been proud, she was giving the Comanche brave plenty to think about.
Try as he might, he could not clutch those long bony arms with their fearsome claws.
“Knock my man over, huh, ye Gawd-damned, misbegotten, copper-coloured heathen,” she yelled, and with a quick stoop, snatched a skillet from the fire and whanged him across the face.
Driven back by the blow, the redskin, evidently despairing of capturing a white squaw for himself, drew his knife. His hand swung up and then a bullet from Sudden’s gun toppled him to the ground. Aunt Judy staggered weakly to her husband, flinging herself on her knees beside him. As she wiped away the blood, the cook opened his eyes and sat up.
“I’m awright,” he said. “One o’ these bastards got me with the butt of his lance an’ I took the count.” His eyes roamed round the little clearing. “There was four of ‘em. Where’s the other?”
“Got away, takin’ Miss Carol,” Aunt Judy told him, adding a venomous hope concerning the redskin’s future state.
“Shucks, cussin’ don’t help,” Peg-leg said, and his better-half stared at him; Satan reproving sin would have astonished her less.
“Yu just found that out?” she asked acidly.
Sudden interrupted the squabble by putting a question. It appeared the raiders had approached the camp on foot. Peg-leg had seen one stepping to the wagon and laid him out with a shotgun. Then he had been struck down from behind. His wife took up the tale. The women had been in the tent and when Peg-leg fired, the girl ran out, to be immediately seized, overpowered, and tied. Aunt Judy following, was attacked by a third savage, while a fourth attempted to climb into the wagon.
“Sam blowed his light out an’ he’s liable to do the same to as if he ain’t attended to,” she finished.
They found the cattleman propped up on one elbow, a six-shooter gripped in his right hand. The fury in his rugged face save way to fear when he heard of Carol’s capture, and he cursed anew the man whose bullet had laid him low. Sudden tried to soothe him by pointing out that Sandy was in pursuit, but the effort failed.
“They’ll get him too—damn the crooked luck,” he dejectedly replied. “How’s Jeff makin’ it?”
Hammering hoofs brought the answer and the Infant pulled his panting pony to a sliding stop by the wagon.
“We druv ‘em off,” he announced triumphantly. “Got six at the first rattle. That discouraged ‘em some, an’ they started circlin’. It didn’t help ‘em none for we got two-three more.
When the chief lets out a whoop an’ they scoops up their dead an’ vanishes—complete. Jeff said for to tell yu the herd ain’t scattered much an’ we’ll be ready to start in ‘bout an hour.”
Sudden explained why this would not be possible and the youth’s face lengthened.
“Hell, that’s bad,” he said. “Sandy went after her?”
“Yeah, an’ as he ain’t back, it’s possible they got him too.”
The rancher’s querulous voice came from the wagon: “Get Jeff an’ the boys an’ go after these damned women-stealers.”
Sudden shook his head. “Listen to me, seh,” he said earnestly. “That Black Bear is a wise hombre an’ he’ll figure on us doin’ that very thing, which is why he didn’t stay an’ fight it out; Comanches ain’t cowards, yu savvy. If they can trap the outfit they get the herd easy.”
“To hell with the herd,” Eden snapped. “I’d sooner lose every hoof than harm should happen to Carol.”
“Shore, but that ain’t the way to go about it,” the cowboy urged. “We gotta walk in the water some.”
“He’s right, boss,” Peg-leg put in. “Let Jim trail ‘em an’ see how things is. No sense in runnin’ our heads into a yeller-jackets’ nest.”
The old man gave a grudging assent; he knew they were advising him widely but his fiery disposition, and the contempt of the frontier men for the redskin called for something more aggressive; the thought of his girl at th
e mercy of those painted devils filled him with fury.
Sudden’s preparations were soon made. He decided to take the black, for if he could liberate the captives, speed would be essential. He was mounting when Jeff rode in; Sudden explained his errand.
“O’ course, it’s on the cards they’ll gather me in too,” he aid. “Then it’ll be up to yu an’ the boys. I’ll leave a plain trail.”
The foreman’s face was sombre. “It looks bad, Jim,” he said. “Why should they be so sot on gittin’ a white woman, huh?”
Sudden did not reply to the question. He could have offered a reason, but he feared the foreman would deem it fantastic. But his knowledge of redskin nature, relentless and untiring in its pursuit of vengeance, told him that it was possible.
Following Sandy’s trail, his mind was busy with the idea he had forborne to mention to the foreman. It had suggested itself when he learned the girl had been carried off. The braves from whom he had rescued her on the day he had first ridden to the S E had been Comanches, and there was a chance that they belonged to Black Bear’s tribe. Had the one who escaped remained in the neighbourhood, watching the preparations for the drive, following it day by day, waiting for the ‘opportunity to avenge his comrade? Sudden’s thoughts reverted to the moccasin prints he had found when Eden was stricken down. No Indian had fired that shot, but one might have been spying on the camp and driven away by the advent of the assassin. The cowboy’s lips set grimly. If this theory was correct, the girl’s peril was indeed dire.
He experienced no difficulty in following the trail since neither pursuer nor pursued had any other thought than speed. The deeper indentations of the animal carrying the double burden could be distinguished. The tracks led him towards a forest of pines, the plumed heads of which shut out the sun. He paused for a moment and pulled out a pistol before plunging into the shadowy depths. The ghostly, bared trunks of the trees, rank after rank, were most of them large enough to conceal a lurking enemy. An ideal spot, the cowboy decided, for an ambush.
He had not gone far when his intuition appeared to be justified. At a point where the foliage overhead made the wood almost dark, he came upon evidence that a struggle had taken place; the carpet of pine-needles had been violently disturbed, and on the bole of a tree was a blotch of blood. Had Sandy caught his man? Sudden did not think so—the indications suggested that it was the other way about. A careful examination of the nearby tree-trunks showed that the ground behind several was slightly flattened. Moreover, the trail of the two horses continued on through the wood.
“That hombre had it all planned out,” the cowboy muttered. “They were waitin’ here for a pursuin’ party. Well, Sandy ain’t dead, seemin’ly, or they’d ‘a’ scalped an’ left him.”
Somewhat cheered by this reflection, he rode on, noting that the bloodstains recurred at intervals. Presently he emerged from the timber and at once pulled up; an increase in the hoofprints showed that other riders had joined the pair he was following.
“The ambushin’ braves picked up their hosses ‘bout here,” he surmised. “Must be near a dozen of ‘em. Nig, we gotta watch out.”
He went on cautiously, keeping well away from any spot which offered a likely hiding-place. But he had to take some risks, for the day was advancing and it would be hopeless to follow the trail in the dark. A little later he came to a narrow ravine littered with boulders, debris wrested by the weather from the rock walls. Pacing slowly along, eyes alert for any sound or movement, he saw something which brought an oath to his lips: lying face downwards at the side of the gully was a bound and gagged man. Sudden slid from his saddle and turned him over; it was Sandy. As he stooped to remove the gag a rope swished, he was flung violently backwards, and a savage war-cry pealed out. Realizing that he too had been tricked he grabbed at a gun but a crashing blow from behind robbed him of reason.
Chapter XVI
WHEN Sudden regained his senses his first impression was that someone was kicking him on the head, but he soon realized that the throbbing jars he felt were the result of the blow he had received. Lying on his back, his hands tied, he was unable to find out the extent of the injury.
In the semi-darkness he could see that he was inside a kind of inverted funnel and knew it for an Indian tepee. Outside, the weird wail of a woman rose above the barking of dogs and guttural voices of men.
“So they got me,” he said aloud. “If my head didn’t hurt so much I’d say it was solid bone. Wonder where Sandy is?”
“‘Lo, Jim,” a low voice answered. “Yu come to life again?”
“No, I’m dead from the neck up,” was the disgusted reply. “Of all the fools …”
“It was neat, allasame,” Sandy consoled. “They knowed yu’d hop off to tend to me—any fella would. All they had to do was squat behind the rocks an’ rope yu. First time I ever figured as the bait in a trap.”
“Where’s Miss Carol?”
“Right here, wore out an’ sleepin’. What d’yu reckon they’ll do to us, Jim?”
Sudden was still sore in both body and mind. “Cuff our ears an’ tell us to be good boys in future, don’t yu reckon?” was his sarcastic reply, and then, “Shucks, we’ll find a way out.” After a pause, “There was blood on the trail; yu hurt?”
“No, I winged one when they jumped me,” Sandy explained.
“Jeff an’ the boys’ll search us out,” Sudden said.
“Don’t bet on it. Soon after they collected yu the main bunch branched off, taking yore hoss an’ mine. One brave reckoned on ridin’ the black but that pet o’ yores just planted both hind hoofs on his chest an’ if he ain’t stopped breathin’ altogether, I’ll lay he’s findin’ it a painful process. After that, they elected to lead him.”
“Nigger don’t like Injuns.”
“I’m believin’ yu. Well, the rest of us struck a stream, waded down it for near half a mile, an’ then went along a stony gulch where a herd o’ buffalo wouldn’t leave a trace.”
Sudden was silent; this put a different complexion on matters. The rescue party would follow the prints of the shod horses and probably blunder into a trap just as he and Sandy had done. The commotion outside increased in volume and other wailing voices joined the first.
“Black Bear’s band has got back an’ some more squaws have learned they are widders,”
Sudden surmised.
There was a slight movement in the gloom on the far side of the tepee; the noise had awakened the third prisoner.
“Sandy,” the girl whispered. “Did I hear Mister Green’s voice?”
“Shore, I’m here, Miss Carol,” Sudden replied.
“Thank heaven,” she said. “I feared you were—killed.” He trailed grimly into the darkness; she did not realize that death might yet be a boon to crave for. Still speaking in a low voice, she went on, “Mister Green, the Indian who brought me here is the other—the one who got away.”
It gave Sudden no pleasure to find that his conjecture had proved correct. Affecting a jocularity he did not feel, he said: “Persevering beggar; we’ll have to discourage him some.”
“I’m—scared,” she confessed.
“Don’t yu be,” he urged, and then lied nobly, “the boys’ll be along any time now an’ snake us outa this mess.”
His confident tone was comforting and she uttered a sigh of relief; somehow she felt that with these two men beside her, tied though they were, the situation was not quite hopeless.
The flap of the tent was flung aside and a savage, carrying a lighted pine-knot, stalked in.
Of medium height, his headdress of eagle-plumes and erect bearing made him appear taller. He was young, less than thirty, Sudden estimated, and moved with the agile sinuosity of a snake. On his bare breast the mask of a fox was crudely pictured in red, and the streaks of paint on his face intensified its sinister expression of cruelty. He shot one triumphant glance at the girl, strode across to Sudden and stooped, thrusting the torch almost into the cowboy’s face. For an instant he ga
zed and then a flash of ferocious joy illumined the dark eyes.
“Damnation, he remembers me,” the captive reflected. “Trust an Injun for that.”
Spitting out a few rapid sentences in his own tongue, the Indian, after testing the bonds of all three, glided away.
“What did he say?” Sandy thoughtlessly inquired.
Sudden, though he could not have given a literal translation gathered sufficient to know that he had been promised a slow and very agonizing end. Not wishing to further alarm the girl, his reply was evasive:
“He’s goin’ to have a pow-wow with me in the mornin’.” Sandy’s tone was incredulous.
“A pow” he began, and stopped. “Shore, he’ll want to talk things over,” he went on. “Mebbe he’ll dicker with us for beeves.”
Long into the night the shrieks of the women mourning their dead endured. Sudden could vision them, kneeling on the bare earth, their bodies streaming with blood from the gashes they inflicted upon themselves. The spectacle would rouse resentment against the hated paleface prisoners to the highest pitch, and unless a miracle happened … In a gust of revolt, he strained at his bonds, but the man who had tied them knew his business. He tried to sleep, well aware that he would need all his nerve for the coming ordeal.
Daylight brought them visitors, an armed brave and a squaw bearing platters of food, pieces of cooked flesh and cakes of meal, with which they had to deal as best they could with bound hands. One unacquainted with Indians might have argued from this that they were not yet to die, but Sudden knew it was but a refinement of cruelty; a man weak from want of food would succumb to torture sooner.
When they had eaten, the redskin removed the bonds from Sudden’s ankles and pointed to the entrance of the tent. The cowboy saw the alarm in the girl’s eyes and forced a grin on his set lips.
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