THE situation had taken on a most singular phase. The Shelton brothers were waiting on the crest of the ridge for the return of their Blackfoot friend, when in a brief time they were called upon to enter into a brief struggle with two Shoshone or Snake Indians for the possession of their own property.
Withal, the paleface youths were eager for the contest. This was especially true of Victor, who, as he expressed it, was aching for a set-to with the broad, strongly built youth, toward whom he had taken an intense dislike from the first.
The arrangements were made by the chief Black Elk and Mul-tal-la, the two warriors standing as immobile as if hundreds of miles removed from the spot, though it is not to be supposed they were not interested. Their leader and the Blackfoot talked again for two or three minutes, while George and Victor stood side by side, awaiting the test. The rifle of one was still held by a Shoshone, while Victor clung to his own weapon.
“I don’t give it up till I have to,” grimly remarked the lad. “One of them has yours, and Mul-tal-la shall take charge of mine; he’ll act fair, but I don’t believe any of the others will. George, if you don’t throw that copper-colored scamp you’re no brother of mine, and you’ll have to settle with me.”
“I’ll do my best—I promise you that. Don’t forget that you have a tough job before you.”
Mul-tal-la addressed the brothers:
“My brother George will wrestle with Antelope first; then my brother Victor will see whether Young Elk is stronger than he.”
“How many falls are we to have?” asked George.
“Only one. If he lays you on your back you must give up your gun to the Antelope. You will not have another chance, but will have to go without a rifle till you can get one somewhere else.”
“In all the wrestling matches I ever saw it was the best two out of three falls. The fellow may play some trick on me.”
“You mustn’t let him,” said Victor, impatiently; “you know as many tricks as he. Remember I’ve got my eye on you, and if he beats you, you’ll have to take a turn with me.”
“Save your strength for yourself,” replied George. “Well, I’m ready,” he added, addressing his dusky friend.
The spectators formed a sort of ring, and the youths advanced to the middle, each warily watching the other and on the alert for the first advantage.
The wrestling bouts of the early days were not conducted as in these times. The rule was for the contestants to take their places with their sides touching, and each with his arm around the waist or neck of the other. The same style still prevails in many places remote from towns. When thus interlocked the contestants began the struggle, twisting, bending, straining and tugging with might and main and with all the skill the two could bring to their aid. The spectacle of wrestlers standing face to face and using their toes to feint and tap each other, most of the motions being simultaneous, like two fighting chickens, while watching a chance to catch the other unawares, was formerly unknown in this country.
It will be noted that in the old style, provided both were right or left-handed, one of the wrestlers had a manifest advantage, since his stronger side was turned toward the weaker side of the other. Among boys this advantage was often decided by lot, or by the first shout of his claim by one of the contestants. The handicap served also to even matters when there was a marked superiority of strength or skill on the part of one youth.
George Shelton was right-handed, like most boys, and he determined not to yield that point to the other. It speedily developed, however, that the Antelope was left-handed, for he voluntarily placed his left arm over the shoulders of George—something he would not have done had his right side been the stronger.
Instead of placing his arm under that of his foe, George Shelton slipped it on top, though not much was gained thereby. He made up his mind that if there was to be any strangling done he would do his share. Thus they stood, with every nerve braced and every sense alert, waiting for the first test.
The grip of the Antelope, who, it will be remembered, was taller than George, suddenly tightened and he bore our young friend backward. But the latter kept his feet and braced for the struggle to fling the other forward on his face, which was made the next instant. Then the seesawing went on for several seconds and with the same alternating abruptness as before, when the young Indian put forth his utmost power to lift the other off his feet. Had he succeeded, he would have had no trouble in flinging him forward on his back or face, for a person can do little when kicking in the air with his feet clear of the earth.
George defeated his enemy by also lifting. With both straining in the same manner neither could succeed, and the weight of both remained on the ground. Then the Antelope ceased his effort, with the intention of trying some “lock” of which the white boy knew nothing.
The Anglo-Saxon Every Time.
But this was the opportunity for which George Shelton was waiting. In the instant of the cessation by his antagonist, the watchful lad suddenly put forth every ounce of strength and lifted the young Indian clear. He strove desperately to regain his footing, but his shabby moccasins vainly trod the air, and before he could recover his grip George hurled him violently forward on his side. He struck the ground with a shock that made it tremble. George lay across his body, from which the breath was driven.
Never was fairer fall seen. The young Shoshone was defeated so decisively that, had there been an official umpire or referee, no appeal could have been made to him.
“Good! Good!” exclaimed the delighted Victor, dancing with delight and clapping his hands. “I’ll own you for my brother, George. I couldn’t have done better.”
Mul-tal-la grinned, for he could not conceal his pleasure. The spectators, including Young Elk, looked savage, and the brow of Black Elk was like a thundercloud. No one spoke, but all must have thought volumes.
Having thrown his rival, George Shelton lay across him for a few moments, then leaped up, sprang back several paces, and turning to Mul-tal-la, said:
“Tell him, if he wants it, I’ll give him another chance.”
“No; my brother has won his gun.”
At the same moment Black Elk reached to the warrior holding the rifle, and, taking it from him, strode to where George Shelton was standing and handed it back without a word. Thus far the chief was certainly disposed to act fairly.
“Thank you for giving me what is mine,” said the exultant youth, bowing so low and smiling so broadly that the chief must have understood he was receiving thanks, even though none of the words was intelligible.
“Now, Victor,” added George, turning to his brother as he stepped beside him, “I’ll say to you what you said to me—that is, that if you don’t get the best of that grinning imp, who is eager to pummel you, you’re no brother of mine.”
While the discomfited wrestler slouched back beside his father, who acted as if he was ashamed of him, the other son fairly bounded into the arena. He stood grinning, with fists doubled, and manifestly impatient for the sport to begin. To hurry his foe he twisted his face into an insulting grimace.
No one knew Victor’s quick temper better than his brother. It was that which caused him his only misgiving.
“Victor,” said he, with much earnestness, “if you don’t keep cool and have all your wits about you, you’ll get whipped. He’s stronger than his brother, and you have a harder job before you than I did. Remember—KEEP COOL!”
Now, Victor himself was fully aware of his infirmity, but, like many thus afflicted, he often yielded to it. At the very opening of the bout he came within a hair of falling a victim to his own impetuous temper. Neither he nor the Shoshone displayed any of the scientific points which are seen to-day when two professionals face each other in the ring, for they had not had any instruction. You would have said the pose of both was wrong, for, instead of holding the right hand across and in front of the chest for purposes of parrying, while the “leading” was done with the left, they stood with fists thrust out and side by side, but both balanced themselves well on their feet, and were on the watch for an opening.
Victor looked straight into the dusky face and felt a thrill of anger when the Shoshone indulged in another tantalizing grimace. Young Elk made several quick feints, and then, with surprising quickness, smote the cheek of Victor with the flat of his hand, and leaped back and grinned at him.
The blow set Victor’s blood aflame, and, forgetting caution, he rushed upon the other, only, however, to receive a second blow which almost carried him off his feet. It was directly on the mouth and started the blood. But it undid the mischief of the slap given a moment before. Our young friend suddenly realized that he had no slight task before him, and he heeded the words of his brother, who again called to him to keep cool. He mastered his temper and did a clever thing by pretending to be scared. When Young Elk carefully advanced he retreated, and hurriedly glanced over his shoulder, as if looking for a place of refuge.
The Indian was deceived and grew confident. He came forward and drew back his right fist ready to strike, while Victor continued cautiously to give ground. Finally he braced and awaited the attack. The closed hand of the Shoshone shot forward, but the blow was eluded by an instant recoil of the head for an inch or two. Victor felt the wind of the blow on his nose, so close came the fist of his foe.
Then with astonishing quickness he concentrated his strength in his good right arm and landed straight and true upon the cheek of the other, who was sent backward and reeled to one knee, but was up again in a flash.
It became clear that Young Elk was afflicted with as quick a temper as vexed the white youth, for he made a blind, headlong rush, as if to carry everything before him. As he dashed on, his arms sawed the air like a windmill. Victor, never more cool and self-possessed, parried for a moment or two until another opening offered, when he drove his fist again into the flaming countenance with a force that sent his antagonist flat upon his back. He had scored a clean knockdown.
But the Shoshone was not yet vanquished. He bounded to his feet as if made of rubber, and with more coolness than before advanced again upon his antagonist. Each was now in a mental state to do full justice to his own prowess. Several minutes were spent in “sparring for an opening,” but Victor Shelton quickly proved he was superior in skill. He dodged and parried several blows, and, when he landed again, it was the most effective stroke yet done. He delivered his fist accurately upon the jaw of the grinning youth, who again went down.
Victor sprang forward and stood over him, waiting for the Shoshone to rise that he might give him the finishing blow. Young Elk lay as if “taking the count.” He was dazed for the moment by the terrific blows he had received, and all the fight was knocked out of him. He looked up at the young gladiator, then rose, and, instead of facing him, turned and ran at full speed down the ridge.
The amazed Victor took two or three steps in pursuit, but immediately saw that he was not the equal of the other in fleetness, and drew back. The exasperated chief shouted to his son to return, but he was too panic-stricken to obey, and continued running.
Victor was thrown into wild rage by his disappointment. He was not yet through with his foe—though it would seem that he ought to have been—and he wheeled around, panting, and looking for some one upon whom to vent his wrath.
“What are you gaping at?”
The question was addressed to the Antelope, standing bewildered and mystified by the whirlwind rush of events. Before he could answer, if he had been disposed to do so, Victor drove his fist into the partly painted face and toppled the owner over on his back. He was heard to grunt as he struck the ground, and, hastily clambering to his feet, he too turned and fled after his still running brother as if death were at his heels.
“I’ll fight you, if you want it,” called Victor, striding in front of the chief, who probably did not understand his meaning. “Fetch on all the Shoshones in the country, and I’ll tumble them on top of one another.”
But George Shelton and Mul-tal-la saw the moment had come to interfere. The latter hastily stepped up to the lad and laid a restraining hand on his shoulder. George did the same.
“Come, Victor,” he said, “you have done enough; you have won your gun, and now don’t spoil everything by your foolishness.”
LET us do justice to Black Elk, chief of the Shoshones, who acted like a true sportsman. He had witnessed the discomfiture of his sons, and could not conceal his disgust and exasperation. Little doubt that soon after the incidents described he “settled” with his heirs, not so much because of their overthrow, but because of the cowardice they had shown. Courage with the red men, no less than with our own race, is a cardinal virtue, as the lack of it is an unpardonable sin.
Victor Shelton allowed his brother to lead him away from his threatening pose in front of the chieftain of the red men. He saw the rashness of his last act, and hoped the leader would overlook it. And Black Elk not only did that, but he did more. He deliberately strode across to Victor, offered his hand, and said something, which Mul-tal-la interpreted:
“He says my brother is a brave youth; he is the master of his sons; he would be glad to adopt you and have you live with him as the one who, when he dies, shall become the leading chief of his tribe, which numbers many hundred warriors.
“Great C?sar!” exclaimed the astonished Victor. “Give him my thanks, but tell him the thing can’t be thought of.”
Black Elk was so pleased with the boys that he still urged Mul-tal-la to go with them to his village and stay for a long time. The Blackfoot finally convinced the chief that being on his return to his own home, from which he had been absent many moons, it would not do to linger on the road. He had sad news to carry to his people and to the relatives of the companion who had met his death in the East. He would be blamed if he delayed in bearing the sorrowful message to them.
So finally the two parties separated. Black Elk shook hands with each of the three, and the grim warriors came forward and did the same. Then the Shoshones passed down the slope and headed toward the rocks on the other side of the valley, where George and Victor Shelton first caught sight of them.
The horses being ready, our friends mounted and started forward again. Their course was a little to the east of the range through which they would soon have to force their way in order to reach the Blackfoot country. Mul-tal-la explained that he had a pass in mind, which was a day’s ride away, and probably would not be entered before the following morning. It will be remembered that our friends had partaken of no food since the previous evening. None referred to it, for they could well wait until the middle or, if necessary, until the close of the day.
The weather continued favorable. Summer had come, and in the lower portions of the country the heat at midday was often oppressive. Mosquitoes had begun to annoy the travelers, who might count upon being plagued by them for the rest of their journey. These pests are more unbearable in cold regions, during the brief summer season, than in the temperate regions of a country.
The sun shone clear and strong, but the three were already upon elevated ground, and the nearness of the mountains doubtless helped to cool the air. At intervals they came upon the interesting creatures peculiar to the West and known as prairie dogs, their dwellings consisting of holes burrowed in the ground, often covering acres in extent, beside which the little animals would sit and gaze at the horsemen as they filed past. Sometimes they emitted queer whistling noises, and, upon observing anything suspicious on the part of the travelers, whisked into these openings and vanished in a twinkling. Then they could be seen peeping out, and, when the seeming danger had passed, they clambered back to their posts, as lively and watchful as ever. To-day the prairie dogs have become so harmful to agriculture in some parts of the West that the problem of extirpating them is under consideration and is a serious one.
The Blackfoot as usual kept his place at the front, while the brothers rode side by side, talking when disposed, and sometimes going for miles without exchanging more than a few sentences. This conversation revealed the fact that both did not feel entirely at ease regarding Black Elk and his Shoshones. At the time of which I am writing this tribe numbered more than five thousand people, and was one of the most important in the West. Their main villages lay to the westward of the Rocky Mountain range, about the headwaters of the stream now known as South Fork of the Lewis River. With so many warriors, it was not strange that some of their hunting parties often came through the passes in the Rockies and roamed over the level country on the east. Since they were generally provided with horses, it seemed singular that Black Elk and his companions were on foot. Mul-tal-la said beyond a doubt all owned animals, which were at no great distance.
When the Blackfoot was told by the boys of their fears, they were surprised to find that he shared them, though not to the same extent. He explained that for some time to come the chieftain’s principal emotion would be that of exasperation against his sons for the sorry showing they had made against the two white youths. They were sure to receive punishment at his hand for running away that would last them a lifetime.
But after the first burst of passion was over, Black Elk would begin to think of the two white lads that had brought this disgrace upon the royal household, and, as he mused, his resentment would kindle toward them. All the Indians not unnaturally looked upon every white man as an intruder. Though history shows that the aborigines welcomed their visitors, yet the action of the latter was so cruel that the friendship of the red men was turned to enmity. Thus most of the trappers and hunters who ventured into the West and Northwest took their lives in their hands, and many never came back from the wild solitudes. The story of the settlement of our country is a continuous one of outrage and massacre, in which the fault lay almost always at the door of the palefaces.
Black Elk could not fail to feel resentful over the fact that the disgrace of his sons had been inflicted by members of that hated race. It was quite likely, therefore, that, repenting the magnanimity he had shown, he would try to visit his vengeance upon the two youths while they were yet within reach.
The duty of our friends, therefore, was plain: they must lose no time in hurrying beyond danger. When Mul-tal-la was asked what the result would have been had the apparently honest invitation of Black Elk been accepted, the Blackfoot smiled.
“My brothers would have been treated well for a time, but they would not have lived long.”
“How would it have been with you?” asked George.
“Mul-tal-la did not hurt Young Elk or the Antelope; his skin is of the same color as Black Elk’s. They are brothers.”
This was another way of saying the Blackfoot had nothing to fear from the Shoshones. It was the boys who were in peril.
Victor more than once was tempted to ask their companion the cause of his absence the night before, but refrained after speaking to George, who told him if Mul-tal-la wished he would give the information without questioning. If he did not, it was not tactful to bother him.
The boys noted that the Blackfoot, from his place in front, occasionally turned his head and scanned the horizon, especially to the south and west.
“That means that he doesn’t believe we are through with the Shoshones,” said Victor, when his brother commented upon the action.
“If they intend any harm, I don’t see why they don’t follow us, without trying to hide from our sight. We can’t travel fast, and they wouldn’t have any trouble in overtaking us before we went many miles.”
“That isn’t the Indian fashion of doing business.”
Inasmuch as Mul-tal-la showed no such interest in studying the country they were leaving behind them, George frequently brought his spyglass into play. Whenever they reached an elevation, though of slight extent, he directed the instrument toward the points which he saw were passing under the scrutiny of their guide. The most careful study, sometimes shared with Victor, failed to reveal anything of a disturbing nature. It was well to be on guard, but it looked as if the Blackfoot was unduly suspicious.
The surface of the country became more broken, for the two were gradually entering the foothill region of that mighty range which extends over many degrees of the American continent. The air remained clear and sharp, different species of wood were met, and it was not yet noon when they halted beside one of the numerous small streams which issued from the mountains, and, frolicking and tumbling eastward, finally found its way into the Missouri and so on to the Gulf.
The water was crystalline and cold. The horses drank from it, for it was not imprudent to permit them to do so, since their gait had been moderate and they were neither too warm nor too tired. The draught was refreshing to the boys and the Blackfoot. The latter told them that if they would start a fire he would try to woo a meal from the brook, which contained numerous deep pools and abounded with eddies, where fish were sure to be found.
George and Victor set to work with animation. From the stunted pines they broke off dry twigs and fractured larger limbs into pieces until something of a pile was gathered and heaped up against a small boulder. It took some time to make the flame catch from the steel and tinder, but both had had a good deal of experience in kindling a fire in difficulties, and they succeeded in starting a blaze of no mean size.
Mul-tal-la was ready, and appeared with three fish, weighing two or three pounds apiece. They resembled salmon-trout, but were not. However, there was no doubt they would make an excellent meal, and it did not take our friends long to prepare it. As you remember, the boys had brought considerable seasoning in the form of salt and pepper, and they made sparing use of them. The Blackfoot, like the rest of his people, did not know the use of condiments in preparing his food. It would have mattered little to him had he been forced to eat his fish raw, but he had learned to show deference to the tastes of Deerfoot and other civilized persons, and often affected a fastidiousness which was foreign to him.
When the midday meal was finished Mul-tal-la borrowed the glass from George Shelton, and walking a hundred paces or so to the westward, climbed a rock and pointed the instrument to the south and west. He held his erect posture so long, with the instrument immovable, that the boys, who were watching him, were sure he had made the discovery for which he had groped so long and hoped not to make.
Such was the fact. Some five or six miles to the southwest he descried a finger of smoke climbing into the clear air, and showing distinctly against the blue sky, near the foothills. Such a sight was so common and so natural in that part of the world that it would not have caused the Blackfoot any unrest had he not noted a new and disquieting feature. The line of vapor did not climb the sky, as such lighter substance naturally does, but its course was sinuous and waving, like a ribbon held by one end and shaken out.
This proved that it was meant as a signal by those who had kindled the fire. That thin, vibratory line of smoke was a message sent for miles across the wild country, and the wireless telegram carried an important meaning. Who was sending it?
“Black Elk, the Shoshone chieftain,” was the instant answer which presented itself to the Blackfoot. Did it bear any relation to the red man and his white companions? Undoubtedly it did in the estimation of Mul-tal-la.
To whom was the message sent?
That question remained to be answered. Of course it could not be meant for Mul-tal-la and his young friends, for there was no conceivable cause for any signal of that nature. It followed, therefore, that the oscillating line of vapor was intended for other Shoshones who were in the neighborhood.
Accordingly, Mul-tal-la now began scrutinizing with the utmost care every other portion of the landscape within his field of vision. To the east and south the view extended for a long distance, but was shortened by the towering mountains to the west and northwest. Somewhere among these rugged masses must be the other wandering Shoshones, and, sooner or later, they were sure to catch sight of the signal fire, because it was too conspicuous to remain hidden for any length of time.
If the signal was seen by those for whom it was intended, they would reply much in the same manner, for the peculiar code does not admit of much variation. Perhaps the most that it could tell would be that the notice had been seen and understood. The party of the second part would then proceed to act.
Again and again the Blackfoot’s eye ranged over his field of vision, but at the end of an hour no new discovery had rewarded his efforts.
MUL-TAL-LA, the Blackfoot, performed some mental calculations that would have been creditable to Deerfoot, the Shawanoe.
Possessing a remarkable memory of places, he easily recalled the location of the pass which he and his companions had used when on their journey eastward. Naturally he planned to utilize it again on his return with his three friends. He did not forget that during his visit to Black Elk, on the former occasion, he had described the route by which he crossed the formidable mountain range. The Shoshone chieftain praised his skill and wisdom in making use of the pass, which he himself had traversed more than once.
It followed, therefore, that Black Elk would expect his old acquaintance to guide the youths over the same course. He had therefore signaled to the Shoshones in the mountains to cut off the little party, and the most promising place for that was in the pass which was familiar to both. Consequently, the prudent thing for Mul-tal-la to do was to mislead Black Elk as to his time of entering the pass.
It has been said that the entrance could be reached by the close of the afternoon, but the first intention of the Blackfoot was to camp at this entrance until the following morning, arranging to make the passage by daylight. You must not form the idea that when a mountain pass is referred to, it is in the nature of a road which can be followed without trouble and that few difficulties are met. The great South Pass through the Rockies is twenty miles wide in many places, and a party of emigrants have often entered and tramped it for a long way before learning they were journeying over an old route that has been used by thousands of persons in crossing the plains.
A mountain pass as understood in the West may be described as a means of getting across or through a range. It often involves steep climbing and descent, winding past wild and dangerous precipices, with the hardest work conceivable. It requires several days and sometimes a week or more to traverse. It has happened that a party, after penetrating to a long distance, has discovered that they have been following a blind path, and they are obliged to turn back and hunt for a new one. The most experienced mountaineers sometimes go astray. On one of Fremont’s exploring expeditions his guide lost his way and the most disastrous results followed. Many of the hardiest scouts and all of the mules froze to death, and the explorer himself had a narrow escape from a similar fate.
It would have been impossible for the two Blackfeet to find their way through the range had they been forced to depend upon themselves, but the trail had been used for years by hunters and wild animals, and was so clearly marked that, traveling only by daylight, it was easy to avoid going wrong.
Mul-tal-la explained the problem that confronted him, and the boys saw it was both difficult and dangerous. His plan was to press on till they arrived at the entrance to the pass, and then, instead of waiting until morning, do the utmost traveling possible by night. The Shoshones would not expect this. Therefore, if all went well, our friends would gain a good start and, by keeping it up as long as they could, might throw their enemies so far to the rear that they would be eluded. The Blackfoot thought they could reach the comparatively level country beyond at the end of three days, provided they made good use of the nights, which, you will remember, were partly lit by the moon, and provided also the weather continued fair.
“The smoke of this fire will tell Black Elk where we are,” remarked George Shelton, when they were about to resume their journey.
“Yes; had Mul-tal-la seen the signal of Black Elk the fire would not have been started, but it is too late now.”
“It seems to me,” said Victor, “that since you have located Black Elk and his party, the only thing left is to keep a lookout for the Shoshones in front.”
“My brother speaks the words of wisdom.”
“Thanks—and now, Mul-tal-la, why not go by that pass you have been talking about and take a new one through the mountains?”
The Blackfoot explained that that was the question he had been turning over in his mind, but the plan could not be followed, because he had no knowledge of any other path. There might be none, or, at best, he would have to spend a long time in hunting for it, and when found, they were likely to be turned back by obstructions of which they could know nothing until they faced them. The conclusion was therefore clear: they must use the old pass with which he was familiar.
But the Blackfoot had a little trick in mind, which he explained to his friends. They would select a camping site among the foothills near where they would have to make the change of route to enter the mountains. They would start another fire, whose smoke would give their enemies the impression that they had halted for the night. The Shoshones, following the rule of their race, were not likely to molest the travelers until the night was well advanced, and by that time Mul-tal-la hoped to be beyond reach. Care and skill and not a little good fortune were necessary to success, but the faithful guide was hopeful.
It took only a fraction of the time I have used for a full understanding to be reached by the Blackfoot and the boys. At the request of George Shelton, their friend retained the spyglass, while he and his brother depended upon their unaided eyesight. Mul-tal-la held his position a hundred yards, more or less, in advance, with the laden Zigzag plodding after and the brothers bringing up the rear. All were fortunate in one respect: none of the animals—omitting the previous accident to the horse Simon and later to Whirlwind—had fallen lame. This was fortunate when it is remembered that all were unshod and they had been obliged to pass more than one rough place. This good fortune could hardly be expected to continue, now that the hardest part of the journey thus far confronted them.
The course wound among the elevations and depressions, past boulders and rocks, with grass, trees and undergrowth continually obtruding, and with the rugged outlines of the mountains towering above the cloud line on their left. At varying distances the great peaks climbed far into the sky, their crests white with snow, and in some cases the fleecy clouds wrapped them about so closely that it was hard to tell where one ended and the other began.
Now and then a breath of icy air was wafted over the lads, and they involuntarily shivered. Then in the soft hush the weather for a time became oppressive. Up and down, to the right and left, in and out, the three pushed onward, making better progress than at any time for weeks before.
The guide gave the boys no attention, for none was necessary. They understood matters, and the part they had to play was simple. The Blackfoot could be seen now and then to check his horse and lift the instrument to his eye. While he gave his chief attention to the front, he did not neglect to scan every portion of his field of vision.
One fact puzzled the Blackfoot. Hours had passed since Black Elk sent his signal across the miles of country, but the reply, so far as Mul-tal-la could discover, was yet to be given. It could hardly be done without his seeing it. The fact that nothing showed suggested the possibility of there being no Shoshones in that section to answer the command of their chief. Such might be the fact, but it was unlikely that a veteran like Black Elk would call to any of his warriors unless he knew they would respond. Mul-tal-la acted as if such a contingency was out of the question.
The sunlight was still in the air when the Blackfoot reined in his horse and dropped from his back. They were in a rough, broken section, filled with rocks, undergrowth, stunted pines, oaks and other varieties of trees, while a small brook brawled and splashed and tumbled some distance away in its eager hunt for a channel to the Platte.
“It looks as if we are done for the day,” said George, noting the action of their friend. “If we are, we have made better time than we expected.”
The Blackfoot beckoned them to approach, and they rode up beside him.
“Here we wait till night,” he explained. “When we turn yonder we begin to travel over the trail that will bring us into the open country on the other side of the mountains—if Black Elk does not say no,” he added, with his meaning grin.
“You have seen nothing of the answer to his signal?” asked George.
“No; the sky in front and over the mountains is clear”——
“How about that?” broke in Victor, pointing to the westward, in which direction the pass extended.
The others turned and saw that which they had been hoping not to see. A spiral, oscillating line of smoke was creeping slowly upward in the clear air. Moreover, it was not more than half a mile distant. Although the reply of the Shoshones to their chief had been delayed, it had come at last. The warriors were on hand, and in the path which the travelers had intended to follow.
The three scanned the telltale column of vapor in silence. In the circumstances the glass could give no help. The interval was too brief and the object itself too ethereal and vague to call for any strengthening of vision. Finally George asked, involuntarily dropping his voice, as one does in the presence of danger:
“Will that change your plans, Mul-tal-la?”
He thought for a minute, with his eyes still on the smoke, before answering.
“Mul-tal-la cannot speak of a surety, but he does not think so.”
As he explained matters from his point of view, the former course that he had indicated remained the right one to follow. The discovery simply added another element of danger to that which was there from the first. By kindling the fire where they had halted, they would give the impression that they had gone into camp for the night. This subterfuge ought to lure the Shoshones to the place in order to make their attack during the darkness.
The situation could not have been more delicate. To carry out the plan of the Blackfoot it was necessary for him and his companions to set out over the pass as soon as it became dark. They would thus be going directly toward the hostiles, who, in case they did not wait until a late hour, would be coming at the same time toward the travelers. Using the one road, it would seem that an encounter was inevitable.
The hope of averting such a meeting rested on the fact that the pass was of varying width, and in many places two or three routes were open. Two men following opposite directions might miss each other by a half-mile interval, and without the possibility of mutual discovery. Again there were stretches where they would have to come face to face. A not important advantage of our friends was that they would be expecting—and would, therefore, be on the lookout for—the Shoshones, while it was not likely the latter would be watching for the Blackfoot and the boys, who were supposed to be at the entrance to the pass, where the smoke of their camp-fire spoke of their presence.
A vigorous blaze having been started, Mul-tal-la took the lead as before. It was understood that he was to hold his place considerably farther in advance than usual. Upon the first sign of their enemies he would warn them by signal, when they could conceal themselves, if possible, until the hostiles passed down the trail to the supposed camp. If this could be accomplished, the danger would be past and the problem solved. Everything depended upon the skill of the Blackfoot.
Night had begun closing in when the start was made in the order named, excepting that Mul-tal-la, as has been stated, led by a longer interval, and Victor Shelton was at the extreme rear. The guide was invisible to the boys most of the time.
The trail steadily ascended, and for an hour or more was easy traveling. It wound to the right or left, passing into deep hollows, climbing steep ridges, circling obstructions in the form of massive piles of rocks, but without interposing any difficult places where it was necessary to halt or grope one’s way.
The little company had penetrated more than a mile in this manner without hearing or seeing anything to cause alarm. Mul-tal-la was beyond sight, but the boys, George leading, were silent, listening and peering into the gloom, which, as yet, was unlighted by the moon. That would not rise for some time to come.
Suddenly a soft tremulous whistle came from the front. This was the signal agreed upon, and the brothers instantly halted. Zigzag was so well trained that he did the same. It had been deemed best to place him between Jack and Prince, so as to hem him in, as may be said.
Fortunately the check came at a favorable point. The rocks and undergrowth on the right offered a good place for hiding, and George Shelton, slipping from his saddle, grasped the bridle rein of his horse and forced him to one side. The animal stumbled, but a few steps took him far enough. Leaving him, George dashed back to Zigzag, and with harder work almost dragged him after Jack. Victor was on the ground almost as soon as his brother, so that the boys and three horses were speedily bunched together, beyond sight of anyone passing over the trail unless his attention was drawn to them.
Quick as they had been the precaution was not a minute too soon. Mul-tal-la must have failed to discover his peril until it was almost upon him.
The first warning was a singular one. A sneeze sounded, followed by a guttural exclamation, and the next moment the crouching lads saw the dim outlines of a warrior striding stealthily over the pass to the eastward. He was moving slowly, with head thrust forward, and carried a long bow in his hand. Before he passed out of sight a second loomed to view, then a third, a fourth and a fifth—all gliding like so many phantoms of the night, and doubtless making for the supposed camp of the travelers a mile or more away.
Stooping low and silently watching the shadows, the brothers were beginning to breathe freely when, to their consternation, Zigzag emitted a whinny which, in the stillness, could have been heard half a mile away.
THE Shoshones instantly stopped and one of them uttered an exclamation. It was easy for them to tell the direction from whence the unexpected sound had come, and all stood peering into the gloom, bows tightly grasped and hands ready to draw their arrows from the quivers and launch them at the instant demanded.
Victor was so incensed with Zigzag that he was tempted to send a bullet through his brain, but restrained himself. He whispered to George at his side:
“Don’t stir or speak, but be ready to shoot!”
His intention was to fire upon the Shoshones if they advanced upon them. Such an advance undoubtedly would have been made, for the hostiles could not have been aware of the real danger of it, but it was prevented by the unexpected appearance of the Blackfoot, who came hurrying down the pass on foot, and called to the Shoshones in their own tongue. The strangers immediately turned their attention to him, and the boys, from their covert, had the singular spectacle presented of a single warrior in seemingly friendly converse with five who were believed to be enemies.
“I don’t understand what he means,” whispered George; “do you?”
“Haven’t any idea, but it looks as if there’s going to be a fight. If it comes, you take the one to the left and I’ll drop him on the right; we mustn’t waste our bullets.”
“That will leave Mul-tal-la with three to fight.”
“But won’t we take a hand? We must jump right into it. After we have wiped them all out, I think I’ll knock Zigzag in the head—confound him! He’s to blame for all this.”
“Don’t be hasty, Victor. If Mul-tal-la needs our help he’ll call to us; he must know we are ready and won’t fail him.”
Meanwhile the Blackfoot was holding a talk with the five Shoshones, who made up the entire party. It seemed strange that a struggle did not open at once, but it may have been because the hostiles were ignorant of the force hiding beside the trail and holding them under their guns. An Indian, no more than a white man, likes to engage in a contest with a foe whose strength is unknown.
Suddenly, to the amazement of George and Victor Shelton, Mul-tal-la called to them:
“Let my brothers come forward; no harm shall be done them!”
“Well, that gets me!” muttered Victor. “I don’t know whether to obey him or not.”
“It won’t do to refuse, but we’ll be ready.”
Leaving their animals behind, the two straightened up and picked their way to the path, each firmly grasping his gun and resolute that there should be no repetition of the performance earlier in the day.
The obscurity did not prevent the brothers gaining a good view of the five warriors, who surveyed them with unconcealed interest as they came into the trail and halted behind the Blackfoot and several paces from the nearest Shoshone. The strangers resembled the warriors who were the companions of Black Elk, the chief. Though he could not be certain, George believed that one at least whom they had met that morning was with the party before him.
Mul-tal-la now told a remarkable story—so remarkable, indeed, that the boys could not credit it. These five Shoshones were the ones to whom Black Elk had signaled by means of his camp-fire, and to which they had replied later in the day. But the exchange of messages was meant as a friendly interference in behalf of the Blackfoot and his companions.
The chief had good reason to believe that a hunting party of Cas-ta-ba-nas were in the mountains, and a meeting between them and the travelers was almost certain. The Cas-ta-ba-nas were a small tribe whose villages and hunting grounds were to the eastward of the principal range of the Rockies. They were small in numbers, but of warlike disposition, and were often engaged in hostilities with others of their race. They were wise enough, however, not to molest the Shoshones or Snakes, who were so much more numerous and powerful that they would have exterminated the whole tribe had provocation been given. It would not be far from the truth to say the Cas-ta-ba-nas were vassals of the Shoshones.
It appeared to be the fate of the smaller tribe to become involved to a greater degree with the whites than were others of their race. This may have been because the most productive beaver-runs were in their section of the West, and consequently more trappers were drawn hither. There had been a fight the preceding winter between three white men and a party of Cas-ta-ba-nas, in which two of the latter were killed. This inflamed the anger of the tribe toward the palefaces. What more likely, therefore, than that, when they came upon a couple of the hated race under the escort of a single Blackfoot, they should destroy all three?
Black Elk, therefore, as the extraordinary story ran, had signalled to the Shoshones to warn the Cas-ta-ba-nas that they must not molest the little party on their way through their country. If they violated the command Black Elk would make sure that they suffered therefor.
This was the story told to the boys, and which impressed them as incredible.
“I don’t believe a word of it,” said Victor, who did not hesitate to speak plainly, inasmuch as Mul-tal-la was the only Indian present who could understand his words; “do you?”
“Mul-tal-la does not know; it may be true.”
“How could Black Elk tell all this to another party of Shoshones by means of the smoke of his camp-fire?” asked George Shelton.
“He could not.”
“Then how did these people get his message?”
“This Shoshone,” replied the Blackfoot, indicating the warrior whom the youth believed he had met before, “was with Black Elk. He sent him to find these Shoshones with the word from the chief; but it took him a long time to find them; that is why we did not see the return to the signal till the day was near done.”
“What need was there of his finding the others? Couldn’t he have given the message to the Cas-ta-ba-nas himself without asking anyone to help him?”
“That he would have done had he not found his friends before darkness came. It may be,” added Mul-tal-la significantly, “that the Cas-ta-ba-nas are more afraid of five Shoshones than of a single one.”
“It may all be as you say, Mul-tal-la, but Victor and I find it mighty hard to believe it; but we’ll do as you wish. What’s the next step?”
“Let my brothers bring their horses to the path.”
George and Victor obeyed, and a few minutes later the three emerged into the dim light. Victor used the occasion to give Zigzag a spiteful kick as a reminder of his offense, but feared that the plodding, contrary animal was not much benefited by the discipline.
While the lads were thus employed Mul-tal-la and the Shoshones came to an understanding. The travelers were to resume their journey through the mountains, the five friends—if such they really were—maintaining the lead, with the Blackfoot riding next and his companions in the order already named.
“That suits me,” was the comment of Victor. “I never would have those villains walking behind us; it would be too easy for one to send an arrow through me when I wasn’t thinking. If they try any trick now two or three of them are sure to go down. I wish I knew whether or not they are lying.”
“We shall have to wait and find out.”
“And while we are doing that they may lead us into a trap. Ah! if we only had Deerfoot with us! They wouldn’t fool him, though he never saw a Shoshone unless he has met one since we left him. Seems to me, George, it’s about time that young chap showed up.”
“I don’t think we need look for him for several days. You remember he told us as much. He isn’t thinking of anyone now except Whirlwind, and he won’t let that horse run the risk of falling lame.”
“And when Deerfoot does turn up he’ll have the stallion trained so well that he’ll know more than all our horses together, which isn’t much. But we haven’t any time to think of them. Mul-tal-la is nobody’s fool, and I don’t think he is likely to let this party outwit him, but I’ll be glad when we are rid of them.”
“Suppose they stay with us till we meet the Cas-ta-ba-nas and then join them in attacking us?”
“That’s the thing I’ve been thinking about. You see, though there are five of the Shoshones now, they have no weapons except bows and arrows. We have three guns and they have learned about them from the white men they have fought. So what is more likely than that they are afraid to put up a fight until they have help?”
“It wouldn’t surprise me if it is as you say. I haven’t heard how many the Cas-ta-ba-nas are in this part of the country, but if they don’t number more than the Shoshones the two parties will be too many for us to handle.”
“We’ll make it interesting, anyway,” sturdily replied Victor.
It was a strange procession that filed through the mountains, the five Shoshones stalking forward in Indian file, with Mul-tal-la riding close to the last, then George Shelton and his brother, with Zigzag patiently plodding at the rear, it being deemed safe to leave him in that position, since there was no call for extra precaution, and he had little or no chance to disturb the arrangements.
By and by the moon appeared above the range and added to the dim light that had thus far guided the two parties. The trail which they were following proved easier of travel than at the beginning. Twice they had to cross small streams, but the rushing water was no more than a few inches deep and the footing of the animals was secure. Then they wound along a precipice, reaching downward fully a hundred feet, where the path was so narrow that there was scant room for a single laden horse. Peering into the gloomy depth the brothers felt a shrinking, for the slip of any one of their horses would have brought woeful consequences. George and Victor drew a sigh of relief when they reached a safer place.
Here the trail broadened for many yards, and traveling was all that anyone could wish. The progress was deliberate and seemingly as automatic as if regulated by machinery. The line of Shoshones did not increase nor slacken its gait, even when treading the narrow portion which caused the lads disquiet.
Unexpectedly in making a turn they came upon a camp-fire burning some rods to the left of the trail and in an open space. The first glance showed that fully a dozen warriors were grouped about it, some lolling on the ground or on boulders, several standing up, and most of them smoking long-stemmed pipes, which were made from a peculiar red clay found in the vicinity. They had evidently eaten their evening meal some time before.
“The Cas-ta-ba-nas!” exclaimed George, speaking over his shoulder to his brother.
The Critical Moment.
The Shoshones halted and spoke to Mul-tal-la, who dismounted and talked with them for a few minutes. Then the Blackfoot addressed the boys:
“Let my brothers wait till Mul-tal-la comes back to them.”
With that he turned off with the Shoshones, who headed straight for the camp of the Cas-ta-ba-nas, the party straggling forward without any regard to order. George and Victor remained seated on their horses, watching the singular scene.
The glow of the fire, added to the moonlight, made everything more or less visible. The arrival of the visitors naturally caused a stir. The Cas-ta-ba-nas who were seated rose to their feet, and immediately an earnest conversation began. Hosts and guests could be seen gesticulating vigorously, and across the intervening space came the odd sounds made by their peculiar manner of speaking. Speculating and wondering, the boys watched and awaited the issue of the curious incident. They looked for a sudden outbreak, though hopeful it would be averted. If the Shoshones meant to play false, their treachery would speedily appear. The conclusion could not be delayed longer than a few minutes.
While the brothers were intently studying the picture the Blackfoot was seen to withdraw from the group and walk hurriedly back to where he had left his friends. Shoshones and Cas-ta-ba-nas stayed where they were, but gazed after him and at the forms of the boys and horses not far off.
“We shall now know what’s up,” said George Shelton.
“Whatever it is, the decision has been made.”
Mul-tal-la came up, cool and collected, but clearly agitated.
“It is as my brothers hoped,” were his words. “Black Elk did as his warriors said; the Cas-ta-ba-nas have been told that he will slay anyone of them that dares hurt Mul-tal-la or the palefaces with him. They dare not disobey the words of the great Black Elk. No harm shall come from them to us. Let us go on.”
And so it proved that chivalry is not dead even among the American Indians.
IT seemed too good to be true, and yet all doubt vanished with the words spoken by the Blackfoot.
“I can’t say I liked the way Black Elk acted when we first met,” said Victor, “but he has proved himself more of a man than I supposed. I hope now he won’t punish Young Elk for running away from me.”
“Why not?”
“Because I gave him enough. Anyway, whatever the father did to his boys has been already done, so we needn’t worry over it.”
“Mul-tal-la,” said George, “you haven’t any doubts left?”
“It is wrong to doubt; the words of Black Elk were true; he spoke with a single tongue. My brothers need not fear.”
“Why don’t those Shoshones of his come back and see us through the mountains? It strikes me that that is the right thing to do.”
“No; they will stay with the Cas-ta-ba-nas and hold them back if they try to do us harm. They will be with them till we are far away; then they can go back to Black Elk and tell him that all has been done as he ordered.”
“It is better than I thought,” said the pleased George. “I don’t suppose we are likely to run against any more of those people; if we do, we can fall back on these reserves.”
The Blackfoot silently led the journey for an hour longer. No one observing the surety of his movements would have thought he had been over the route but once before. Everything appeared to be as familiar as if he had spent his life in the mountains. The trail continued to ascend and soon became harder to travel. Several times it looked to the boys as if they would be checked and turned back, but their guide always found a course that permitted the passage of their horses’ feet.
“This is well enough,” finally remarked Victor, “but I don’t see the need of it. We did a good deal of traveling to-day, and if those Indians to the rear are friendly what’s the use of hurrying to get away from them?”
“I don’t think Mul-tal-la means to travel much farther.”
Even as George spoke the Blackfoot halted. He had been pushing on in order to reach the most favorable spot for camping. It was found near the base of a mass of black frowning rocks, from beneath which bubbled a tiny stream of ice-cold water. This formed a deep pool close to the rocks, and then dripped away in the gloom of the boulders, trees and undergrowth. The place was sheltered against the arctic winds which sometimes rage at this altitude, and indeed was so attractive that while our friends were gathering fuel and preparing for camp, they saw it had been used more than once for the same purpose by other hunting parties in the neighborhood.
Hardly had the animals been relieved of saddles, bridles and the pack, and the fire started, when the three were given a taste of the variable climate of that section. Although summer had fully come, the wind moaned and howled through the trees at the summit of the rocks and on their right and left. Suddenly Victor called out:
“It’s snowing!”
In a twinkling, as it were, the air was filled with blinding flakes, which eddied and whirled about the three and covered their bodies with its white mantle. The horses found protection by huddling close to the pile of stone, though the temperature was not very low.
The flurry passed almost as quickly as it arose. In a few minutes the air was as clear as before, and the moon shone from an unclouded sky. The friends gathered about the fire, which was soon burning vigorously.
It was the turn of George Shelton to go on guard for the first part of the night, changing places with his brother at the usual hour. Since this duty had to be divided among three persons, the Blackfoot would do his share in the early half of the following evening, alternating with George, while Victor would be given rest. This plan was kept up when Deerfoot was absent, so the division of the work was as equitable as it could be. When the party included four people the arrangement was simpler.
The action of Mul-tal-la removed any lingering misgiving the boys may have felt. Had the Blackfoot been distrustful of the honor of Black Elk, the Shoshone chieftain, he himself would have acted as sentinel for the first portion and probably throughout all the darkness; but, while the night was still young, he wrapped himself in his blanket and stretched out to sleep, Victor Shelton speedily doing the same.
Left to himself, George Shelton entered upon his task in his usual deliberate manner. The fire was replenished from the wood that had been gathered, and with his gun resting on his shoulder he marked out a beat over which he slowly tramped to and fro. At the middle of the course he moved in front of the fire, so that any foe lingering near could have seen him clearly, and, had he been so disposed, picked off the youth without risk to himself.
George at first felt a natural shrinking when he knew his form was shown in relief against the yellow background, but after the pacing had been kept up for an hour or so without molestation this feeling passed off, and his thoughts became tranquil. He often peered into the gloom which walled him in on every hand, pausing and listening, but hearing nothing unusual. His expectation was that some prowling beast would be attracted by the light of the camp-fire, but it was the summer time, when they were not likely to be pressed for food, and nothing in the nature of an attack was to be feared from wolves, bears or any species of forest creatures.
The youth looked up at the sky, which was clear and cold. The moon gave only slight illumination, and now and then he traced many of the constellations, as he and his brother had often done when at home or when on the trail in the leafy solitudes. He gazed at the Pleiades, which to him and Victor were always the Seven Stars, and again noted the peculiarity of that beautiful group with which I am sure you are familiar. When you look at the stars fixedly and try to count, you can see but six, but glancing abruptly at them the seven are visible. He recalled the fancy that one of the cluster was so modest that when stared at it shrinks from sight, to steal into view again after the scrutiny is removed. It seemed to George that he never looked at the heavens on a starry night without his eyes immediately resting upon the Dipper, as he and his friends called a portion of the constellation of Ursa Major. Then, too, he traced the Little Dipper, located Orion and the North Star, and in the loneliness of the hour mused upon the One who had launched all these stupendous orbs into space and set them spinning over their mighty orbits, as they shall spin until time shall be no more.
Who can look at the worlds circling through the dome of heaven without being profoundly awed by his own insignificance and the infinite greatness of the Author of all these marvels? How little and mean seem the affairs of this life when we are brought into such intimate communion with the wonders that are beyond the grasp of the greatest intellect!
But the hours wore on and George was still tramping to and fro when he saw Victor sit up, fling aside his blanket and rise to his feet. Impressed before falling asleep with the duty that awaited him, he awoke at the right minute without external help. The two exchanged places after a few words, during which George made known that he had not seen or heard anything to cause alarm.
The experience of Victor was quite similar to that of his brother, and when the gray light of the morning began stealing through the mountains the slumber of the Blackfoot had continued unbroken. He showed no surprise over the report of the boys. Upon leaving the camp of the Cas-ta-ba-nas the night before it was with a feeling of certainty that Black Elk had carried out his promise in spirit and letter.
While the boys bathed faces and hands in the crystalline pool, the Blackfoot strolled off, bow and arrow in hand, in search of breakfast. Wild turkeys were so plentiful in the mountains that he soon came back with a big, plump bird, from which they made their usual excellent breakfast. He told the boys that the meal must suffice until night, for he did not mean to halt any longer than necessary to rest the horses. Two meals a day are enough for anybody, and it is slight hardship for a hunter or traveler to get on with a single repast.
Soon after the journey was resumed the trail began to descend, but shortly rose again, though not to the same extent. The air was clear and sunshiny, and before noon, despite their elevation, which was not great, the heat became uncomfortable. To relieve the animals and for the sake of the exercise all needed, the three walked most of the time, Mul-tal-la keeping his place at the head, while the brothers trailed at the rear.
It was slightly past noon when they paused to rest their animals. The spot was in a valley-like depression, through which wound a stream of clear, cold water. A little to the right of the trail this expanded into a pool or pond several rods across and fifteen or twenty feet deep. The water, however, was so transparent that the stones and pebbles could be plainly seen in the deepest portion.
The temptation was too great to be resisted. Victor’s eyes sparkled.
“George, we must have a swim! I never saw a finer place. Who’ll be first in?”
The Blackfoot, like most of his race, was much less fond of water than the Caucasian. Mul-tal-la smiled at the ardor of his young friends, and remarked that he would stroll down the trail to refresh his memory as to the route. Then he passed out of sight, and the boys were left to themselves.
“This is a good chance to do our weekly washing,” said George, as they began disrobing; “it’s time we attended to that.”
It was the practice of the boys and Deerfoot to look after that indispensable work at regular intervals, for they had not the excuse of the lack of opportunity, since rarely were they out of sight of water. So the brothers brought their underclothing from the pack of Zigzag and laid it on the bank to don when their swim was over. Then they cleansed that which they had taken off, as well as they could without the help of soap. I am afraid they hurried through with the task, for in a very brief time they were frolicking in the icy water and enjoying themselves as nobody in the world can enjoy himself unless he is a rugged youngster, overflowing with health and animal spirits.
They dived and swam; they splashed and tried to duck each other; their happy laughter rang out, and it seemed to them as if they could do nothing finer than spend the remainder of the day in the pool. If the first contact with the icy element gave them a shock, it also imparted an electric thrill which tingled from the crown of the head to the end of the toes, and made them shout and cry out in the wanton ecstasy of enjoyment.
But in due time they felt they had had enough and the moment had come to don their clothing again, leaving that which had been washed spread out and drying in the sunlight. They reluctantly emerged from the pool and gingerly picked their way over the pebbles.
Victor was a few paces in advance. His brother was in the act of leaving the water when Victor uttered an exclamation:
“Great C?sar, George! Somebody has stolen our clothes!”
“IT can’t be,” gasped the mystified George; “you’re mistaken.”
“Come and see for yourself; where did you leave your clothes?”
“Over there on top of that boulder,” replied George, coming forward and staring at the object named.
“Well, do you see them now?”
“Maybe the wind blew them off,” weakly suggested the other, although he knew such a thing was impossible, for there had not been a breath of air stirring for hours.
The two made careful search. Not a stitch of their garments was to be seen.
“And the thieves have taken those we spread out to dry. Aren’t we in a pretty fix? We’ll have to travel naked until we can kill a bear or two and rob them of their hides.”
“Who was the thief?” was the superfluous query of George, staring here and there in quest of the wretch who had done this “low down” thing. “You don’t suppose it was Mul-tal-la?”
“No; how could it be? What would he want of our clothes? We saw him go down the trail; I don’t believe he is within a mile of us.”
“Maybe Black Elk and his warriors have been following and waiting for a chance of this kind.”
Victor shook his head. The thought was preposterous.
“He couldn’t have known there would be any such chance, and if he wanted to do us harm he would have done it long ago. B-r-r-r-r! I’m cold!” muttered the lad with a shiver.
The matter was becoming serious, for if their clothing was gone they were in a woeful plight indeed. You will bear in mind that coats, trousers, caps, stockings, shoes—everything had disappeared. The theft included the underclothing that had been removed and cleansed by the boys, as well as the extra suits taken from the pack carried by Zigzag. Since these made up the only two undersuits owned by the brothers, you will admit that their situation could not have been more cheerless.
A curious fact was that their guns had not been disturbed, though both were left leaning against the boulder on which the clothing was laid, and must therefore have been seen by the rogue.
“We’ll have to go into the water to get warm again,” said Victor, with folded arms, bent form and rattling teeth. “I don’t see that we can do anything but wait till Mul-tal-la comes back.”
“What can he do?”
“If he can’t find our clothes he can go out and rob some bears or other wild animals of theirs, and let us have ’em”——
George Shelton caught a flying glimpse of a tightly rolled bundle of clothing which at that instant shot through the air and, striking Victor in the back of the neck, sent him sprawling on his hands and knees. George turned to see the point whence came the pack, and at the same instant a similar one landed full in his face and knocked him backward. But he had caught sight of Deerfoot, the Shawanoe, who rose from the farther side of an adjoining boulder, and both heard his chuckle, for he could not resist the temptation of having a little fun at the expense of the brothers.
“We might have known it was you,” exclaimed Victor, clambering to his feet and proceeding to untie the knots in his shirt and drawers, and finding it no slight task.
“We won’t forget this,” added George, warningly; “you think you are very smart, but we’ll catch you some time when you are not watching.”
Deerfoot was shaking with merriment, and as he came forward he said:
“My brothers need not wear bare-skins as they feared they would have to do.”
(This is the only pun of which we have any record that was ever made by Deerfoot.)
The shivering lads began donning their clothing, and then shook hands with their friend. The meeting was a happy one. The Shawanoe was as glad to see them as they were to meet him, whom they had missed more than they had ever supposed could be possible. He told them he had nursed Whirlwind until his lameness was gone, when he set out at a leisurely pace to overtake his friends. On the way he fell in with Black Elk, the Shoshone chief, and spent several hours in his company. Though it was not easy for the two to understand each other, they managed to do so through the universal sign language to the extent that the Shawanoe learned that the chieftain had acted the part of a friend to the Blackfoot and the boys when they were in danger from a roving band of Cas-ta-ba-nas. So, knowing all was well, Deerfoot had not hurried to overtake the party in advance.
“Where’s Whirlwind?” asked Victor, while hastily dressing himself.
“He is modest,” replied Deerfoot. “When my brothers are clad to receive company he will come forward to greet them.”
“Seems to me you’re getting mighty particular, Deerfoot.”
It took the boys but a short time to dress, when, after hopping about for a minute or two, to restore their numbed circulation, they became comfortable. Being satisfied with an inspection, Deerfoot emitted a sharp whistle. It was immediately answered by a neigh, and the next moment the magnificent black stallion trotted into view around a bend in the trail and approached the party. Proud as ever, he paid no attention to the other horses, who raised their heads and saluted him as he came in view.
Halting a few paces away, he looked at his master as if awaiting his commands.
“Cannot Whirlwind bow to his friends?” gravely asked the Shawanoe; “since they are not polite enough to salute him, let him teach them what is right.”
The horse bent his head forward, drawing in his nose slightly and making a graceful obeisance.
“This is George Shelton; my brother does not know much, but he means well.”
Whirlwind stepped slowly forward and then sank on one knee. It was the one that had been lame, but it was now as strong as ever.
“This is my brother Victor; he means well sometimes, but my brother must not be trusted too far.”
“I wonder that he pays us any attention after the character you have given us,” remarked Victor, who nevertheless bowed low to the salutation of the stallion.
Deerfoot now gave a striking demonstration of the intelligence of Whirlwind and of the training which he had received during the comparatively brief time that he and his master had been alone together. Not looking at him, the Shawanoe addressed Victor:
“Deerfoot would be glad if Whirlwind would stand up for him.”
That the stallion understood these words was proved by his instantly rising as nearly erect as possible on his hind feet.
“Now let him give my brother’s handkerchief to his brother.”
Whirlwind thrust his nose forward and began fumbling about the breast of Victor. In a moment he drew his handkerchief from an inside pocket, stepped across to the pleased and wondering George, and shoved it into his coat.
“That gives my brother two handkerchiefs. It is not right. Let Whirlwind put the first one back where it belongs.”
Without hesitation the animal obeyed.
“The gun leaning against the rock—the one nearest us—belongs to my brother Victor. He is lazy; therefore let Whirlwind bring it to him.”
The stallion walked the few steps necessary, turned his head sideways and, grasping the rifle of Victor near its stock in his teeth, brought it to the amazed youth.
“Now make him bring mine to me,” said George.
“No; he has done enough of that; get it for yourself. Now, Whirlwind, Deerfoot is pleased with you; come forward and kiss him.”
The horse walked up in front of the Shawanoe, thrust out his tongue and licked his cheek. His master kissed his nose, patted his neck and spoke endearingly to him. There could be no question that the wonderful animal was happy and proud in the affection of his master, who, in his way, was more remarkable than he, since he had taught him all this.
“Only one thing is lacking,” remarked Victor, after he and George had expressed their amazement; “you ought to teach him to talk.”
“Though he may not use words like men, yet he can make his meaning known to Deerfoot, and that is enough.”
“There isn’t any doubt about his knowing what you say. You ought to teach him to be more considerate of the feelings of Bug and Jack and Prince and Zigzag. He doesn’t seem to care anything for them.”
“Whirlwind has the right to treat those of his kind as he pleases. None of them is his equal. Deerfoot is glad to see how careful he is of his company. If he is willing to notice my brothers,” added the Shawanoe with a smile, “isn’t that enough?”
It was at this juncture that the stallion gave the most remarkable proof of his intelligence that had yet been seen. It almost struck the boys dumb with astonishment.
You remember that after washing their underclothing they spread them out on the ground to dry in the sun. Deerfoot brought the garments from where he had hid them and again spread them out. They had lain a considerable time, and Victor was about to inspect them to see if the moisture had evaporated, but Deerfoot checked him. Addressing the stallion he said:
“Let Whirlwind examine the clothes lying on the ground; if they are dry, he will hand them to my brothers; if they are wet, he will leave them lie where they are.”
Victor’s first fear was that the brute was about to chew up his garments, for he closed his teeth in a corner of his shirt, held it a moment, sniffing at it, and then came over and laid it at the feet of the youth. Of course he could not know that the article belonged to this lad, for he had not been told.
He returned and in the same manner picked up the other garment belonging to Victor and started to lay that also at his feet. After a single pace he stopped, shook his head and flung the article back where it had been lying.
“That isn’t quite dry enough,” said the wondering and laughing owner. “I wonder how it is with your clothes, George.”
Precisely the same thing was repeated with the underclothing belonging to George Shelton. One garment was dry, but the other retained a little dampness, which, however, would soon disappear.
“Don’t ask him to do anything more,” said Victor; “I shall be scared. It does seem that such animals should have souls.”
“Deerfoot is sure they have,” replied the Shawanoe with deep feeling.
Deerfoot now told Whirlwind to leave them for the time. He strolled off to the more abundant growth of grass on the other side of the trail. The three watched him amusedly, and noticed that he kept apart from the other horses. He was a born aristocrat, and always would remain so.
Zigzag was munching and looked up at the stallion, as if he felt like renewing the acquaintance that had not been of a very pleasing character. He kept an eye on Whirlwind, and when he began cropping the grass Zigzag had the temerity to try to join him. Before he reached the stallion, however, he received too plain a hint to disregard. Whirlwind deliberately faced the other way, thus placing his heels toward the horse, so as to be ready for use when Zigzag came within reach. The latter paused, looked reproachfully at Whirlwind, and then solemnly walked back to his former companions. The snubbing was as emphatic as the former and was sufficient.
A few minutes later Mul-tal-la came in sight and joined his friends. All sat down on the boulders and exchanged experiences. Deerfoot had little to tell that was of interest. He was not disturbed by the cloudburst, and his occupation while absent from his friends had been, as he stated, the looking after and training of Whirlwind. The animal recovered from his lameness sooner than his master expected, and the latter could have rejoined his companions sooner, but he spent hours in “getting acquainted” with his prize and in training him to understand the words spoken to him. It has already been told that some of the commands of Deerfoot were uttered in a mixture of languages, or rather in no language at all, the object being to throw difficulties in the way of anyone who might possibly gain possession of the stallion for a time.
The Blackfoot gave it as his belief that they would have no further trouble with people of his own race. They were approaching the Blackfoot country, and, though some of the tribes through whose grounds they must yet pass warred with one another, there was no hostility between any of them and the Blackfeet, unless it had broken out during the absence of Mul-tal-la, which was not likely.
While the friends were holding this familiar converse, the Blackfoot thought the time had come to warn them against a danger they were likely to be called upon to face, though it had not presented itself as yet. He told them of a species of bear, sometimes seen farther north, which was of such enormous size and ferocity that no single hunter dare fight him alone. Mul-tal-la said that he and three of his people had had such a fight, with disastrous results to the Blackfeet. Two of the latter had guns, which, though of an antique pattern, were effective and would have quickly killed an ordinary animal. The bear was shot repeatedly, but he slew one of the warriors who had firearms and wounded another so badly that he died a few weeks later. And in the end the bear got away, apparently none the worse because of the bullets and arrows that were driven into his body.
YOU know, of course, that the Blackfoot was describing the grizzly bear, though he did not call it by that name, any more than he referred to the Rocky Mountains as such. George and Victor were inclined to think that Mul-tal-la was exaggerating, for it was hard to believe that so formidable a creature existed. They had learned in Ohio and Kentucky that no brute traversed the solitudes that could not be slain by a single bullet if rightly directed, and several bullets, even when not aimed at the most vulnerable point, were generally sufficient to do the business.
Deerfoot, however, was impressed by the words of his friend. He had hunted with Mul-tal-la long enough to know his bravery and skill. He knew that if he entered any conflict with man or beast he would give a good account of himself. It was certain that he had put up a sturdy fight with his companions, but the fact that a single animal had defeated the four and slain two proved that he must have been a formidable monster indeed.
When Mul-tal-la, after answering further questions, gave it as his belief that they were likely to meet one or more of these terrors, the eyes of Deerfoot sparkled. He dearly hoped that such an encounter would take place, for he could never forget the ecstatic thrill of a fight in which all his unequalled prowess had to be brought into play.
But the Shawanoe saw the danger that threatened the boys. Inasmuch as all four were likely to be separated for hours at a time while on their journey, it might fall to the lot of George and Victor to meet a grizzly bear. If so, the most natural thing for them to do would be to open hostilities at once. Deerfoot warned them against such fatal rashness.
“My brothers must not try to shoot or hurt the bear unless they have no other way of saving themselves.”
“What shall we do?” asked Victor.
“Run as hard as my brothers can.”
“Victor is mighty good at that. You don’t know how fast he can run, Deerfoot.”
The Shawanoe looked inquiringly at George, who at that moment caught a warning grimace from his brother. Deerfoot saw the by-play and had his own suspicions, but kept them to himself. He was determined to learn the truth from Mul-tal-la, and he did so before the close of day.
The halt had already extended beyond the time set by the Blackfoot, and the journey was now taken up and pushed till night. Mul-tal-la kept in the lead, with the Shawanoe next and the boys at the rear. When the afternoon drew to a close they were well through the narrow portion of the range and among the foothills on the farther side. Although the country was broken and rough in many places, the traveling was not difficult, and the party hoped to make good progress until at the end of a few days they would again enter a mountainous region. This would take a long time to traverse, and when it was passed they would be on the border of the Blackfoot country, though still a long way from the Pacific.
That night Mul-tal-la and Deerfoot shared the watch between them, the boys resting undisturbed throughout the darkness. The weather remained clear, and at an early hour they were on the road again and pressing forward with vigor. The Blackfoot showed that peculiarity which comes to many in drawing near their destination; the closer he approached to home the greater became his haste.
The following day the boys met a pleasant experience. At the noon halt, while Mul-tal-la and Deerfoot were sitting on a fallen tree and talking, with the horses browsing near, George and Victor wandered off to look for fruit. They had seen some of it earlier in the forenoon, but it was too unripe to be edible. After living so long on meat they felt a natural craving for lighter food. The Blackfoot told them they ought to find that for which they were hunting, for they were in a region where fruit was plentiful and the season was now far enough advanced for some of it to be ripe.
George was the first to succeed in the hunt. A shout brought his brother to his side. George was busy among some bushes that were crimson with wild currants, and he was picking and eating them greedily.
“Better not eat too many,” warned Victor, proceeding straightway to violate his own advice. “You know we are not used to this kind of stuff, and it may play the mischief with us.”
“If I ate as much as you I should expect to die,” was the rather ungracious response of George, who nevertheless heeded the counsel and began searching further for some other kind of fruit that had less acidity.
He succeeded sooner than he expected, for he ran directly into a growth of raspberries, many of which were purplish black in color, soft, mild and delicious to the palate. He called to Victor and the two enjoyed a veritable feast. In the midst of it they were joined by Mul-tal-la and Deerfoot, who partook as bountifully as they. Later in the season they found an abundance of plums, wild apples and no end of mulberries.
The journey continued for several days without special incident. When they reached the stream now known as the Great Horn they faced a serious problem. The current was rapid and deep, coursing violently between high ridges, some of which were so lofty that a regular ca?on was formed. Mul-tal-la said they had come upon this river a considerable distance above the place where he and his companion forded it, and on the suggestion of Deerfoot he began searching for the ford or ferry, as it might prove. When nightfall came it had not been found, and the Blackfoot expressed doubts of his being able to locate it.
This unexpected difficulty gave Whirlwind an opportunity to display his skill and intelligence. The party had paused at a place where the stream was a hundred feet or more in width, and with the current so roiled that there was no way, except by actual test, of ascertaining its depth. By hard work the horses might be able to swim or work their way across, but the necessity of taking care of the property on the back of Zigzag added to the difficulty. It was important that it should be protected from wetting. It would take a long time to build a raft on which to carry the stuff to the other side, and even then there would be risk of its being swept down stream. A dull roar that came to the ears of our friends through the solitude showed that there were falls or violent rapids at no great distance below, into which the raft would be likely to be driven with the loss or irreparable injury of much of the merchandise.
Deerfoot was disposed at first to divide this among the four, who could hold the articles above their heads while their horses were swimming, but he distrusted the ability of the boys to do their part.
The important thing was to learn the depth of the stream. He therefore asked Whirlwind to cross to the other rocky bank. If he could do this without swimming all difficulty was removed. The stallion was quick to understand the request made of him, though it is hardly to be supposed that he comprehended its full significance. When told to enter the stream he did so with only natural hesitation, feeling his way as his kind do when the ground in front is uncertain.
All attentively watched the noble animal as he waded out into the swift current, his foothold firm and strong. The water crept higher and higher, and when the middle was reached it touched his body. This was encouraging, but the channel might run close to the farther shore, and none breathed freely until the depth was seen to be decreasing. Finally the steed stepped out without once having been in water that was four feet deep, and at no point, despite the velocity of the current, did he have serious trouble in keeping upright.
“No place for crossing could be better,” said the pleased Shawanoe. “Here we will pass to the other side.”
He whistled to Whirlwind, who instantly stepped into the water again, and came back much more quickly than he had gone over. His master leaped on his back, and, giving the word to his horse, led the way, with Mul-tal-la almost at his side.
“It will be just like Zigzag to take a notion to roll when he gets out there,” said Victor, as he drove the packhorse in ahead of him.
“If he does it will be the worst roll of his life,” replied George, who half feared the stubborn animal would try to do something of that nature. But, of course, Zigzag had too much sense to attempt anything of the kind. Indeed, he did his part so faithfully that he emerged from the river with his load as intact as at the beginning.
Matters were not pleasant that night. No food had been eaten since morning, for Deerfoot and Mul-tal-la had come to look upon the noonday halt as solely for the horses. It was a waste of time to hunt and prepare a dinner, and it had not been done since Deerfoot last joined the party. The expectation, however, was that of having an evening meal, which was welcome after the long day’s ride.
Although passing through a country abounding with game, our friends could not catch sight during the afternoon of elk, deer, bison or even a wild turkey. It was as if those creatures knew of the coming of the strangers and kept out of their way. It was not a good season to fish, though it was not so long since several meals had been made upon them. Still, more for the sake of the boys than himself and Mul-tal-la, the Shawanoe brought out the lines with a view to trying his luck in the Great Horn, but he was unable to find any bait. Both he and the Blackfoot searched until the growing darkness stopped them, without finding so much as an angleworm or any insect that could serve them to help woo the inhabitants of the river to shore. Still more, the ground was so rough, broken and overgrown that the horses were unable to do any better than their masters in the way of food.
And this was not the worst. They had been pestered by mosquitoes through the day, and at night the insects swarmed about the camp by the millions, tormenting animals as well as men. The poor beasts stamped the ground, switched their tails, bit and kicked, and at times were on the point of breaking off and dashing into the solitude. It was the turn of George Shelton to stand guard throughout the first portion of the night, and of Victor to act for the remainder of the hours of darkness. Deerfoot told them that inasmuch as none could sleep with comfort he would mount guard and divide the watch with Mul-tal-la. The boys did not suspect what was the truth—that the kind-hearted Shawanoe did this out of consideration for them.
Only partial relief was obtained by the recourse of travelers caught in such a trying situation. By enveloping themselves in the smoke of the fire until it was hard to breathe, they managed to fight off the pests for a part of the time. When the boys lay down each left only the point of his nose obtruding from the folds of the blanket. Even then that organ was punctured as by innumerable needle points, and most of the time was spent in slapping at the torturing insects.
There must have been a score of porcupines which busied themselves nosing about the camp in search of food. They were so familiar that in moving around one had to be careful to avoid stepping on the prickly things. They did not molest our friends, but their society was anything but agreeable. Victor expressed himself as envious of the protection nature had given these things against the mosquitoes.
Amid these trials Deerfoot and George Shelton felt grateful over a fact that had become apparent long before. It has been shown that from the very hour when it was agreed that Victor should form one of the little party to cross the continent, he began rallying from the decline into which he was rapidly settling, and which threatened his life. Except for some such radical change he must have been crushed by the incubus that was bearing him to earth. But the rough out-door days and nights had wrought their beneficent work. He had regained his former vigor and rugged health, and even before they crossed the Mississippi was his old self again. True, moments of sad depression came to him during the lonely watches, when his grief over the loss of his parent brought tears to his eyes and made him sigh for the sweet companionship that could never again be his in this world.
It is a blessed provision that, if time cannot fully heal all wounds, it can soften the pangs that otherwise would make existence one long misery and sorrow.