CHAPTER V
THE COMANCHE VILLAGE
The Norther did not blow itself out until noon of the next day. Then itceased almost as abruptly as it had begun. The wind stopped itsshrieking and howling so suddenly that the silence, after so long aperiod of noise, was for awhile impressive. The clouds fell apart as ifcut down the middle by a saber, and the sun poured through the rift.
It was like a fairy transformation scene. The rift widened so fast thatsoon all the clouds were gone beyond the horizon. The sky was a solidblue, shot through with the gold of the warm sun. The hail melted, andthe ground dried. It was spring again, and the world was beautiful.Phil saw, felt, and admired. Bill Breakstone burst into song:
"The Norther came, The Norther went. It suits its name, Its rage is spent.
"From the looks of things now," he continued, "you wouldn't think it hadbeen whistling and groaning around us for about twenty-four hours,trying to shoot us to death with showers of hail, but I'd have you toknow, Sir Philip of the Untimely Cold and the Hateful Storm, that I haverecorded it upon the tablets of my memory. I wouldn't like to meet sucha Norther when I was alone on the plains, on foot, and clad in sandals,a linen suit, and a straw hat."
"Nor I," said Phil with emphasis.
Now they lighted fires of buffalo chips which were abundant everywhere,and ate the first warm food that they had had since the day before atnoon. Then they advanced four or five miles and encamped on the banksof a creek, a small stream of water flowing in a broad, sandy bed. Philand some of the others scouted in a wide circle for Comanches, but sawno signs, and, as he had slept so late that day, the boy remained awakemost of the night. There was a good moonlight, and he saw duskyslinking forms on the plain.
"Coyotes," said Bill Breakstone. "At least, most of them are, though Ithink from their size that two or three of those figures out there mustbe timber wolves. If I'm right about 'em, it means that we're not farfrom a belt of forest country."
"I hope you're right," said Phil. "I'm getting tired of plains now, andI'd like to see trees and hills again, and also water that runs fasterand that's less muddy than these sluggish and sandy creeks."
Bill Breakstone threw back his head and laughed with unction.
"That's the way with fellows who were born in the hills," he said."Wherever you go, sooner or later you'll pine for 'em again. I'm one ofthat lot, too."
"Yes, it's so," admitted Phil. "I like the great plains, the vastness,the mystery, and the wonderful air which must be the purest in theworld, that's always blowing over them, but for a real snug, homeyfeeling give me a little valley in the hills, with a brook ofgreen-white water about six inches deep running down it, and plenty offine trees--oak, beech, hickory, elm, walnut, and chestnut--growing onthe slopes and tops of the hills."
"A pretty picture, Sir Philip of the Brook, the Hill, the Valley, andthe Tree," said Bill Breakstone, "and maybe we will see it soon. As Itold you, timber wolves indicate trees not far off."
But the chief event that day was buffaloes and not timber. They raninto a vast herd, traveling north with the spring, and killed with easeall they wanted. The bodies were cut up, and the wagons were filledwith fresh meat. There was a momentary quandary about the hides, whichthey wished to save, a process that required immediate curing, but theywere unwilling to stop for that purpose on the plain. Two of the scoutscame in at sundown with news that the timber was only three or fourmiles ahead, and the whole train pushed forward, reaching it shortlyafter nightfall.
The wagons stopped just within the edge of the timber, but Phil,Breakstone, Arenberg, and Middleton rode on, the night being so clearand bright that they could see almost as well as by day. The firstrange of hills was low, but beyond lay others, rising perhaps twohundred feet above the level of the plain. The timber on all the hillsand the valleys between was dense and heavy, embracing many varieties ofhard wood, elm, hackberry, overcup, ash, pecan, and wild china. Therewere also the bushes and vines of the blackberry, gooseberry, raspberry,currant, and of a small fox grape, plentiful throughout the mountains ofTexas. The fox grape grew on a little bush like that of the currant,and growing in abundance was another bush, from two to six feet inheight, that would produce wild plums in the autumn.
"It's a good country, a fine country," said Bill Breakstone. "A mancould live all the year around on the food that he would find in thisregion, buffalo and antelope on the plains, deer and maybe beaver inhere, and all sorts of wild fruits."
Phil nodded. He was reveling in the hills and timber. The moonlightfell in a vast sheet of silver, but the foliage remained a solid mass ofdark green beneath it. A tremulous little wind blew, and the soft soundof fresh young leaves rubbing together came pleasantly. A faint noiselike a sigh told of a tiny stream somewhere trickling over the pebbles.Phil opened his eyes as wide as he could and drew in great gulps of thescented air. Big bronze birds, roused by the tread of the horsemen,rose from a bough, and flew away among the trees. They were wildturkeys, but the lad and his comrades were not seeking game just then.Bill Breakstone, who was in advance, stopped suddenly.
"Come here, Sir Philip of the Hilly Forest," he cried, "and see whatuncle has found for his little boy."
Phil rode up by his side and uttered a little gasp of admiration. As hesat on his horse, he looked into a ravine about two hundred feet deep.Down the center of the ravine dashed a little mountain river ofabsolutely clear water. It was not more than twenty feet wide, but verydeep. As Breakstone said, "it ran on its side," but it ran along withmuch murmur and splash and laughter of waters. Often as the swiftcurrent struck the stony sides of the ravine it threw up little cascadesof foam like snow. The banks themselves, although of stone, werecovered most of the way with clustering vines and short green bushes.The crest of the farther bank was wooded so heavily with great treesthat they were like a wall. Farther down, the stream descended withincreased swiftness, and a steady murmuring noise that came to themindicated a waterfall. The brilliant moonlight bathed the river, thehills, and the forest, and the great silence brooded over them all.Middleton and Arenberg also came, and the four side by side on theirhorses sat for awhile, saying nothing, but rejoicing in a scene so vividand splendid to them, after coming from the monotony of the greatplains.
"I'd like to drop off my horse after a hot day's ride," said BillBreakstone, "and have some of that river run over me. Wouldn't that bea shower-bath for a tired and dusty man!"
"It's likely to be ice-cold," said Middleton.
"Why so?" asked Phil.
"Because it rises somewhere high up. There must be mountains to thenorthward, and probably it is fed most of the year by melting snows. Ithink Bill would have enough of his bath very quickly."
"If I get a chance, and there is any way to get down to that stream, Imay try it to-morrow," said Bill threateningly.
"Meanwhile, we'll ride back and tell what we've seen," said Middleton.
"Isn't there any danger of Indian ambush in the timber?" asked Phil.
"I don't think so," replied Middleton. "The Comanches are horseIndians, and keep entirely to the plains. The other tribes are too muchafraid of the Comanches to remain near them, and in consequence the edgeof a hilly stretch such as this is likely to be deserted."
They rode back to the wagons and found that the cooking fires werealready lighted, and their cheerful blaze was gleaming among the trees.Everybody else, also, was delighted at being in the timber, where clearwater flowed past, and most of the wounded were able to get out of thewagons and sit on the grass with their comrades. Woodfall decided thatit was a good place in which to spend a few days for rest, repairs, andthe hunting of game, as they wanted other fresh meat besides that of thebuffalo.
The next morning they began to cure the buffalo hides that they hadalready obtained. A smooth piece of ground, exposed all day to the raysof the sun, was chosen. Upon this the skin was stretched and peggeddown. The
n every particle of the flesh was scraped off. After that, itwas left about three days under the rays of the sun, and then it wascured. Twenty-five skins were saved in this manner, and, also, by thesame method of drying in the sun, they jerked great quantities of thebuffalo meat.
But Middleton, Arenberg, Breakstone, and Phil turned hunters for thetime. They found that the hill region was very extensive, timberedheavily, and abundant in game. They hunted wholly on foot, and foundseveral places where the ravine opened out, at which they could crossthe little river by walking, although the water rose to their waists.
They had great luck with the game, shooting a half dozen splendidblack-tailed deer, a score of wild turkeys, and many partridges, quail,and grouse. Bill Breakstone, according to his promise, bathed in theriver, and he did it more than once. He was also joined by hiscomrades, and, as Middleton had predicted, they found the waterice-cold. No one could stand it more than five minutes, but the effectwas invigorating.
A great deal of work was done at the camp. The axles of wagons weregreased, canvas ripped by wind or hail was sewed up again, clothing waspatched, and the wounded basked in sun or shade. Two of these had died,but the rest were now nearly well. All except two or three would be fitto resume their duties when they started again.
Woodfall, knowing the benefit of a complete rest, still lingered, andPhil and his friends had much time for exploration. They combined thisduty with that of the scouting, and penetrated deep into the hills,watching for any Comanches who might stray in there, or for the mountaintribes. Once they came upon several abandoned lodges, made partly ofskins and partly of brush, but they were falling in ruins, and BillBreakstone reckoned they were at least two years old.
"Wichitas, Wacos, Kechies, and Quapaws live around in the hills andmountains," he said, "and this, I take it, was a little camp of Kechies,from the looks of the lodges. Two or three groups of them may belingering yet in this region, but we haven't much to fear from them."
Woodfall, intending at first to make the stay only four or five days,decided now to protract it to ten or twelve. The journey to Santa Fewas one of tremendous length and hardship. Moreover, a buffalo hunter,straying in, told them that the Comanches were very active all over theTexas plains. Hence the Santa Fe train would need all its strength, andWoodfall was anxious that every one of the wounded should be in fightingcondition when they left the timber. Therefore the delay.
Phil was glad of the added stay in the hills. He was developing greatskill as a hunter and a trailer, and he and his comrades wanderedfarther and farther every day into the broken forest region toward thenorth. Oftenest he and Bill Breakstone were together. Despite thedifference in years, they had become brothers of the wilderness. Intheir scoutings they found available pathways for horses over the hillsand among the great trees, and, starting, one morning, they rode far tothe north, covering thirty or forty miles. Phil was interested in somehigh mountains which showed a dim blue ahead, and Breakstone wascarefully examining the rock formations. But as night came on theyfound that the hills were dropping down, and the mountains seemed to beabout as blue and as far ahead as ever.
"I should judge from these signs," said Breakstone, "that there is avalley or narrow plain ahead, between us and the mountains. But we'lllook into that to-morrow. It isn't good to be riding around in the darkover hills and through thickets."
They found a little grassy open space, where they tethered their horses,leaving them to graze as long as they wished, and, lighting no fire,they ate jerked buffalo meat. Then they crept into snug coverts underthe bushes, wrapped their blankets about them, and fell asleep. Philopened his eyes at daylight to find Breakstone already awake. Thehorses were grazing contentedly. The trees and bushes were alreadytipped with fire by the gorgeous Texas sun.
"Sir Philip of the Bushes," said Bill Breakstone, "you just lie here andchew up a buffalo or two, while I go ahead and take a look. As I saidlast night, these hills certainly drop down into a plain, and I want tosee that plain."
"All right," said Phil, "I'll stay where I am. It's so snug in thisblanket on a cool morning that I don't care to move anyhow, and I caneat my breakfast lying down."
He drew out a freshly jerked strip of buffalo meat, and another verytender portion of a black-tailed deer that he himself had shot, and fellto it. Bill Breakstone, his rifle held conveniently at his side, slidaway among the bushes. Phil ate contentedly. The sun rose higher. Themorning was absolutely still. The horses seemed to have had enoughgrass, and lay down placidly on their sides. It occurred to Phil thathe, too, had eaten enough, and he put the remainder of the food back inhis hunter's knapsack. Then he began to get drowsy again. It was sovery still. He thought once of rising and walking about, but heremembered Breakstone's advice to lie still, and, against his will, hekept it. Then his drowsiness increased, and, before he was aware of ithe was asleep again.
When Phil awoke the second time, he threw off his blanket and sprang tohis feet in surprise. The sun was high up in the blue arch. It must beat least ten o'clock in the morning, and Bill Breakstone had not comeback. The horses were on their feet and were grazing again. They wereproof that nothing had disturbed the glade. But Bill Breakstone was notthere. Nor had he come back and gone away again. If he had done so, hewould have awakened the boy. He had been absent three or four hours,and Phil was alarmed.
The boy stood up, holding his hand on the hammer of his rifle. Thisbeautiful day, with its blue skies above and its green forest below,oppressed him. It was so still, so silent, and Bill Breakstone hadvanished so utterly, just as if he had been turned into thin air by thewave of a magician's wand! The boy was alone in the wilderness for thefirst time. Moreover, he felt the presence of danger, and the queerlittle shiver which often comes at such moments ran through his blood.But the shiver passed, and his courage rose. He had no thought of goingback to the camp to report that Bill Breakstone was missing. No, hewould find him himself. That was his duty to his comrade.
The boy waited a little longer, standing there in the shade with hisrifle ready, and eyes and ears intent. He stood thus for a quarter ofan hour, scarcely moving. The brilliant sunshine poured down upon him,bringing out every line of the strong young figure, illuminating theface which was thrown a little forward, as the blue eyes, gazingintently through the undergrowth, sought some evidence of a hostilepresence. Finally the eyes turned to the horses which were grazingcalmly in the full circle of their long lariats. Phil decided that suchcalm on their part signified the absence of any enemy. If either man orbeast came near they would raise their heads.
Then Phil moved forward through the bushes, putting into use all his newskill and caution. The bushes closed softly behind him, and he entereda slope covered with great trees without undergrowth. His eyes couldrange forward several hundred yards, but he saw nothing. He advancedfor a few minutes, steadily descending, and he was tempted to shout hisloudest or fire off his rifle as a signal to the derelict BillBreakstone that it was time for him to come back. But he resisted bothtemptations, and soon he was glad that he had done so. The slope wasvery gradual, and he traveled a full two miles before he came to theedge of the woods and saw before him the plain that Bill Breakstone hadpredicted. He took one look, and then, springing back, sank down in thecovert of the bushes.
Before Phil lay a fairly level plain about a mile in width and ofunknown length, as in either direction it parsed out of sight among thehills. In the center of it was a shallow but wide creek which perhapsflowed into the nameless river. The valley was very fertile, as thegrass was already rich and high, despite the earliness of spring.
At the widest point of the valley stood a large Indian village, twohundred lodges at least, and Phil could not doubt that it was a villageof the Comanches. Hundreds of ponies, grazing in the meadows to thenorth, and guarded by boys, proved that they were horse Indians, and noother tribe dared to ride where the Comanches roamed.
Phil could see far in the dazzling sunlight
, and all the normalactivities of human life, that is, of wild life, seemed to prevail inthe Comanche village. Evidently the warriors had been on a greatbuffalo hunt. Perhaps they had struck at another point the same herdinto which the train had run. Over a wide space buffalo hides werepegged down. Old squaws were scraping the flesh from some with littleknives, while others, already cleaned, were drying in the sun. Vastquantities of buffalo meat were being jerked on temporary platforms.Little Indian boys and girls carried in their hand bones of buffalo ordeer, from which they ate whenever they felt hungry. Everywhere it wasa scene of savage plenty and enjoyment, although signs of industry werenot wholly lacking, even among the warriors. Many of these, sitting onthe grass, were cleaning their rifles or making new bows and arrows.Now and then one would make a test, sending into the air an arrow whichsome little boy was glad to run after and bring back. At another pointa number of boys were practicing at a target with small bows andblunt-headed arrows. Two warriors on their ponies came up the valley,each carrying before him the body of a black-tailed deer. They werereceived with shouts, but soon disappeared with their spoils among thelodges, which were made universally of the skin of the buffalo. Down atthe end of the village some warriors, naked to the breech cloth, dancedmonotonously back and forth, while an old man blew an equally monotonoustune on a whistle made of the bone of an eagle.
Phil, lying close in his covert, watched with absorbed eyes, and withmind and vision alike quick and keen, he took in every detail. Thewarriors were tall men, with intelligent faces, aquiline noses, thinlips, black eyes and hair, and but little beard. The hair grew verylong, as they never cut it, and in many cases it was ornamented withbright beads and little pieces of silver. They wore deerskin leggins ormoccasins, and a cloth of some bright color, bought from AmericanMexican traders, wrapped around the loins. The body from the loin clothupward was naked, but in winter was covered with a buffalo robe. Thewomen were physically very much inferior to the men. They were shortand with crooked legs. Moreover, they wore their hair cut close, beingcompelled to do so by tribal law, the long-haired Comanche men and theshort-haired Comanche women thus reversing the custom of civilization.Both men and women wore amulets. The Comanches, like most Indiantribes, were great believers in dreams, and the amulets were supposed toprotect them from such as were bad.
Phil's roving eye lighted upon a small frame structure built of slightpoles, the only one in the village not of hides. Such a building wasalways to be found in every Comanche village, but he did not know untillater that it was a combined medicine lodge and vapor bath house. It wasspherical in shape, and securely covered with buffalo hides. When awarrior fell seriously ill, he was seated in this lodge, beside severalheated stone ovens, on which water was thrown in profusion. Then, whilea dense, hot vapor arose, the shaman, or medicine man, practicedincantations, while men outside made music on whistles or the Indiandrums. The hot bath was often effective, but the Comanche ascribed atleast a part of the cure to the medicine man's incantations. YoungComanche men, also, often took a vapor bath before going on the warpath, thinking that it had power to protect them from wounds.
Then Philip saw to the right a far larger building than that of thevapor bath, although it was made of dressed skins with just enough polesto support it. This was the medicine lodge of the Comanche village, abuilding used for important purposes, some of which Phil was to learnsoon.
The boy did not doubt that his comrade had been taken, and, unlesskilled, was even now a captive in the Comanche village. He might beheld in that huge medicine lodge, and the boy's resolution strengthenedto the temper of steel. He could not go back to the train without BillBreakstone; so he would rescue him. He did not yet have any idea how,but he would find a way. There were depths of courage in his nature ofwhich he himself did not know, and springing from this courage was thebelief that he would succeed.
While he yet lay in the covert he saw a band of Indians, about a dozenin number, riding up the valley. They were apparently visitors, but theywere welcomed with loud cries. The leader of the band, a large man withbrilliant feathers in his hair, replied with a shout. I Then a horsemanrode forth to meet him. Even at the distance Phil recognized thehorseman as Black Panther. He, too, was arrayed in his finest, and, as agreat crowd gathered, the two chiefs slowly approached each other. Whentheir horses were side by side, Black Panther leaned over in his saddle,put his head on the other's shoulder, clasped his arms around his chest,and gave him a tremendous squeeze. The stranger returned the salute inkind, and then the two, amid great shouts of approval, rode among thelodges, disappearing from Phil's sight.
Phil watched awhile longer, but he saw nothing except the ordinary lifeof the village. Then he went back to the glen in which the horses weretethered. They were still grazing, and Bill Breakstone had notreturned. Phil led them down to a little brook, let them drink, andthen, after some thought, took off the lariats, coiled them around thesaddles, and turned the animals loose. He believed they would stay inthe glen or near it, as the pasturage was good, and the water plentiful,and that they could be found when needed.
Having attended to the horses, he returned to the edge of the forest andsat himself down to think out the plan of his great adventure.
It was his intention to enter the Comanche village without detection,and, hard as such a task seemed to him, it was even harder in reality.No race more wary than the Comanches ever lived. Besides the boys whohabitually watched the ponies, they had regular details of warriors asherdsmen. Other details served as sentries about the village, and theadjacent heights were always occupied by scouts. All these guards weremaintained night and day. Phil could see some of them now patrolling,and, knowing that any attempt of his would be impossible in thedaylight, he waited patiently for night. He had with him enough food tolast for a day or two, and, choosing a place in the dense covert, he laydown. He called up now all the wilderness lore of Breakstone, Arenberg,Middleton, and the others in the train. He knew that he must restrainall impulsiveness until the appointed time, and that he must lie withoutmotion lest the keen eyes of wandering warriors should see the bushesabove him moving in a direction other than that of the wind. He alsolaid his rifle parallel with his body, in the position in which it couldbe used most quickly, and loaded the pistol. It was hardest of all tolie perfectly still. He wished to turn over, to crawl to a new place,and his bones fairly ached, but he restrained himself. Naturally a youthof strength and determination, his mind took the mastery over his body,and held it fast and motionless among the bushes.
It was well that he controlled himself so completely. Indians came nearthe edge of the woods, and once some boys passed, driving a herd ofponies. But he crouched a little closer, and they went on. The day wasfearfully long. The high sun poured down a shower of vertical beamsthat reached him even in the shelter of the bushes. The perspirationstood out on his brow, and his collar clung to his neck. He envied thefreedom of the Comanches in the villages and the easy way in which theywent about the pleasure of savage life. More warriors, evidentlyhunters, came in. Some bore portions of the buffalo, and others wereloaded with wild turkeys.
In these hard hours the boy learned much. He had passed safely throughbattle. But there one was borne up by the thrill and excitement of thecharge, the firing and shouting and the comradeship of his fellows.Here he was alone, silent and waiting. Enduring such as that, his willachieved new powers. A single day saw the mental growth of a year ortwo.
The sun passed the zenith and crept slowly down the western heavens.Welcome shadows appeared in the east, and the far lodges of theComanches grew misty. Phil thought now that the village would sink intoquiet, but he noticed instead a great bustle, and many people goingabout. Squaws bore torches which made a bright core of flame in theincreasing dusk, and Phil was quite sure now that something unusual wasgoing to occur. It seemed to him that the whole population of thevillage was gathering about the great medicine lodge. It must be thebeginning of some important c
eremony, and the time to enter the Comanchevillage was propitious. He inferred that on such an occasion the guardwould be relaxed, at least in part, and as he heard the sound ofhundreds of voices chanting monotonously he prepared for his greatadventure.
The twilight faded, and the night came in its place, thick and dark.The sound of many voices, some singing, some talking, came clearlythrough the crisp, dry air. The core of light before the medicine lodgeincreased, and, by its radiance, he saw dusky figures hastening towardit to join the great group gathered there.
Phil took off his cap and hid it in the bushes. He would be bareheadedlike the Comanches, wishing to look as much like them as possible.Fortunately his hair had grown somewhat long, and his face was deeplytanned. Once he thought of stripping to the waist in Comanche fashion,but his body, protected from the sun, was white, and he would bedetected instantly.
He spent a little time flexing and stretching his muscles, because, whenhe first rose to his feet, he could scarcely stand, and the blood,choked up in the arteries and veins, tingled for lack of circulation.But the stiffness and pain soon departed, and he felt stronger than everbefore in his life. Then he started.
He advanced boldly into the plain, bent very low, stopping at times tolook and listen, and, also, to rest himself. More than once he lay flatupon the ground and allowed his muscles to relax. Once he saw upon hisright two Indian warriors standing upon a knoll. They were a part ofthe night guard, and their figures were outlined duskily against thedusky sky. Their faces were not disclosed. But Phil knew that theywere watching--watching with all the effectiveness of eye and ear forwhich the Indian is famous. At this point he crawled, and, in hiscrawling, he was so nearly flat upon his stomach that his advance wasmore like a serpent's than that of anything else.
He left the patrol behind, and then he saw another on his left, and muchnearer to him, two more warriors, who did not occupy any knoll, but whomerely walked back and forth on the flat plain. They were between himand the great fire, and he saw them very distinctly, tall men of lightcopper color, with high cheek-bones and long black hair. Both werearmed with rifles, of which the Comanches were beginning to obtain asupply, and their faces in the glow of the firelight seemed very savageand very cruel to Phil. Now he flattened himself out entirely, andmoved forward in a slow series of writhings, until he had passed them.There was an icy rim around his heart until he left these two behind,but when they were gone in the darkness his courage leaped up anew.
He now reached the eastern end of the village and crept among thelodges. They were all deserted. Their occupants had gone to witnessthe ceremony that was now at hand, whatever it might be. Not a woman,not a child was left. Phil stood up straight, and it was an immenserelief to him to do so. It was a relief to the spirit as well as thebody. He felt like a human being again, and not some creeping animal, ahuman being who stands upon his two feet, a human being who has a brainwith which he thinks before he acts. It was strange, but this merephysical change gave him a further supply of courage and hope, as if hehad already achieved his victory.
He passed between two lodges and saw a gleam beyond. It was the surfaceof the wide but shallow creek, showing through the dusk. The banks werefive or six feet high, and there was a broad bed of sand extending oneither side of the water.
Phil glanced up the stream, and saw that it flowed very close to themedicine lodge. An idea sprang up at once in his alert brain. Here washis line of approach. He dropped softly down the bank, taking his chanceof quicksand, but finding instead that it was fairly firm to the feet.Then, hugging the bank, he advanced with noiseless tread toward themedicine lodge. Chance and his own quick mind served him well. Hisfeet did not sink more than a few inches in the sand, and the bankcontinued at its uniform height of about six feet. He continued slowly,pausing on occasion to listen, because he could see nothing in thevillage. But occasional stray beams from the fires, passing over hishead, fell upon the creek, lingering there for a moment or two in a redglow. Above him on the bank, but some distance back, the fires seemed togrow, and the monotonous beat of the singing grew louder. Phil knewthat he was now very near the medicine lodge, and he paused a littlelonger than usual, leaning hard against the sandy bank with a sort ofinvoluntary impulse, as if he would press his body into it to escapeobservation.
He looked up and saw two or three boughs projecting over the bank. Thenthe medicine lodge was some distance away, perhaps fifteen or twentyyards, and, therefore, the adventure would increase in peril! Anotherglance at the boughs reassured him. Perhaps there was a little grovebetween the creek and the medicine lodge, and it would afford himhiding! The largest of the boughs, amply able to support his weight,was not more than three or four feet above the bank, and, climbingcautiously the sandy slope, he grasped it and drew himself up. Then heslid along it until he came to the crotch of the tree, where hecrouched, holding his rifle in one hand.
He was right in his surmise about the grove, although it was narrowerthan he had supposed, not more than seven or eight yards across at theutmost. But the trees were oak, heavy-limbed and heavy-trunked, andthey grew close together. Nevertheless, the light from some of thefires showed through them, and at one side loomed the dark mass of themedicine lodge. As nearly as he could see, it was built directlyagainst some of the trees. He crawled from his tree to the one next toit, and then to a third. There he stopped, and a violent fit ofshuddering seized him. The trees were occupied already.
On boughs so near that he could touch them rested a platform of polesabout eight feet long and four feet wide. The poles were tied tightlytogether with rawhide thongs, and over them were spread leaves, grass,and small boughs. Upon these couches rested two long figures wrappedtightly in buffalo hide. They were the bodies of the dead. Farther onwere other platforms and other bodies. Phil knew what the dark objectswere. He had read and heard too much about Indian life to be mistaken,and, despite his power of will over self, he shuddered again and again.He surmised that these might be temporary burial platforms, as they wereusually put in isolated places away from the village, but here theywere, and now it occurred to him that their presence would be to hisadvantage. Superstition is strong among the Comanches, and they wouldnot walk under the trees that supported the burial platforms on theirboughs.
He advanced from bough to bough until he came directly against the skinwalls of the great medicine lodge. There he lay along a strong andhorizontal bough with his body pressed close to the wall, and a humaneye ten feet away would not have seen him. Just above Phil's head was aplace where two of the buffalo hides had not been sewn closely together,and the light from within shone out. He raised his head, widened theplace with his knife, and looked down into the medicine lodge.
The boy beheld an extraordinary scene. From the roof of the lodge hunga joss or image, with the profile of a man, rudely carved from a splitlog. One side of the face was painted white, and the other black.Beneath it was a circular space about twenty feet in diameter, roped offand surrounded by a great crowd of people. Old squaws held alofttorches of pine or other wood that cast a ruddy light over eager andintense faces.
A great medicine dance was about to be held; and now the shaman, orchief medicine man, an old, dark Indian named Okapa, who for the presenttook precedence over both Black Panther and his visitor, who was thegreat chief Santana, was preparing to begin. Phil could see Okapaclearly as he stood alone in the center of the cleared circular space,carrying in his hands a short, carved stick, like a baton. It is hardto judge an Indian's age, but Phil Bedford believed that this man mustbe at least seventy. Nevertheless, despite his deeply lined and seamedface, he was erect and strong. But it was, a cruel face, with thin,compressed lips, a large hooked nose, and jet black eyes that smolderedwith dark fire. It was a face to inspire fear, and it was all the moreominous when the light of many torches fell upon it, tinting it a deeperand darker red.
Okapa raised his hand. Save for the tense breathing of the multitudethere was silen
ce in the lodge. Phil, forgetful of all danger, pressedmore closely against the buffalo skin to see.
The Quest of the Four: A Story of the Comanches and Buena Vista Page 5